


Jivin' Bones

by greygoo



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Bara Sans (Underfell), Big Brother W. D. Gaster, M/M, Underfell W. D. Gaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23063425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygoo/pseuds/greygoo
Summary: The above world isn't what Sans thought it would be, not that he had ever given it much thought. With all his old friends busy living their own lives, even Papyrus away from home more often than not— Sans is left to entertain himself. Bored, he turns back to the Underground. To the broken machine hidden in the back of his workshop. In the process of fixing it, the machine malfunctions and sends Sans into an alternate world.Thrust into a harsher reality, Sans must survive long enough to find a way back home... while being pursued by a version of himself that's all too interested to know who the new skeleton in town is.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 200





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Influenced/inspired by Sooner or Later You're Gonna be Mine by Staringback

Sans sighed, he huffed, he chuffed.

He lay on the couch, eyes straining as another raunchy comedian sauntered across the TV. The small square box’s glow was bright and the contrast between it and the dark living room was enough to pain his eyes. He rolled over on the couch to face the back of it, both to escape the light and because he was no longer enjoying the comedy special marathon. Raunchy comedians were the worst. Absolute party poopers. Why if Sans were in that crowd, he’d boo the bozo off the stage.

Anyone can spout swear words and point to their nether regions. It takes real comedic talent to get a crowd going with just one’s wit and line delivery. A talent Sans prided himself on, though he admittedly had a preference for puns over everything else.

There had been a time, when the monsters had first come to the surface, bright eyed and full of hope, that Sans had considered a career as a comedian. Touring the world, exploring, teaching the humans what monster comedy was all about. But then he’d really got to thinking about it, talked it over with his brother. And realized it would be… a lot.

He’d be on a schedule, have to actually plan the shows, constantly be moving based on where the crowds are and not where he wanted to be, not to mention having to workout contracts and payment. Too much work so soon after coming up from the Underground and Sans was too tired to be bothered.

Or at least that’s what he had told Papyrus.

He couldn’t have very well told his brother that if he became a professional comedian, then he would have to leave their newly settled home and that they wouldn’t see each other nearly as much. And after spending almost the entirety of his life caring for his younger brother, Sans was reluctant to leave him. For anything. The younger skeleton was a magnet for trouble and danger seemed to follow him wherever he went. Who knew what the hyperactive monster would get up to without Sans around to curb his enthusiasm?

That, and his brother’s dusty remains having slid through his trembling, segmented fingers enough times to be counted on both hands, might have also played a role in his unwillingness to leave his brother behind. Just a small one. Nothing major.

Knowing that Sans’ decision to stay in this little, cozy, do-nothing town was linked entirely to his desire to stay by his brother’s side, would make said brother feel guilty.

Just chalk another mark on the board next to the thousand other ones that represented all the things he couldn’t tell his brother.

Sans groaned as another curse-word laden joke boomed from the TV. Such poor taste, so low brow.

It didn’t suit their new little house, the same as their old, only with more windows. Papyrus, for whatever reason, loved the sun and raved about their home having natural light sources. Sans hadn’t seen the appeal, but was never the argumentative type, least of all over windows. Though he had wanted to mention how easy windows are to break in to. How human children were known to throw rocks through monsters’ windows, graffiti their walls, tee-pee their trees.

Mean spirited pranks that just spoke to how terrible human-surface-world comedy truly was.

Hundreds of channels and somehow the one that used to play in the Underground topped them all.

Tired as he was, lazy as he prided himself on being, the TV would be no distraction tonight. It was late, his brother was out on a patrol, having eagerly and early on joined the human police force. Their version of a guard, a much more boring version. With stricter rules, uniforms, and a harsher schedule. Too much work to join and not enough entertainment value to bother.

Undyne had taken to it immediately, though her more violent tendencies had somehow led to her never making it past the rank of police technician. A dumb name for a rank, because she didn’t actually work on anything technical, like the name suggested. She just helped kids and old humans cross the road, and handed out the occasional parking ticket.

Going from Captain of the honor guard to babysitter, and she wasn’t even bothered by it. Which probably had something to do with the street she regularly patrolled being directly across from the school Alphys taught at. Another step down, from royal scientist to middle school teacher.

The monster kingdom had fallen apart almost immediately after reaching the surface, the integration into human society easier than anyone had thought possible. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a jumbled mess of working parts left behind in the Underground. One no one seemed in any hurry to fix.

Being on the surface didn’t mean they could take it easy. There was more work that needed to be done.

It was just a pain being the only one to remember it needed doing.

The bother of it all didn’t stop him from smiling, even as another horrid joke came from the TV, threatening to put a damper on his already soggy mood. He slid off the couch and picked up the remote, pointing it threateningly at the glowing box.

“Sorry to cut you off early,” he said to the TV comedian. “But you’re not even _remotely_ funny.”

Sans chuckled at his own joke, too tired to give it the proper guffaw it deserved.

“I’d _telly_ you in person,” he continued at the screen. “but I got places _TV_ tonight.”

That got a proper laugh out of him, at the same time the audience started roaring. Sans took a bow then clicked off the television, leaving the white glow from his eye sockets as the only light in the house.

Sans allowed his laughter to carry him out of the living room and to the front of the house. If he couldn’t focus on TV or hang with his brother, then there really was nothing for him to do in the above world, at least not this night. It was too late for anything to be open, and too early to try and get some sleep. That strange in-between that always came after midnight.

So instead he’d do the work no one else remembered needed being done.

Sans closed the door behind him as he stepped outside, only to shiver and shove his hands into his coat pockets. Even after spending so long in Snowdin, Sans still wasn’t a fan of the cold. Not like his brother, who acted like it didn’t affect him at all, the younger skeleton more susceptible to the heat than the cold. To the point that his brother wore crop tops in the winter.

Maybe the cold affected Sans differently because he was already such a chill guy.

Sans snorted, only to cringe as cold air filled his skull. Didn’t stop his smile, or laughter. What would he be if he couldn’t laugh at himself? Sans one funny-bone, is what he’d be.

His snickering was cut short as the first snow of the season began to fall. Looked like it was going to be a white one this winter. He held a hand out as if to catch it, but before a flake could land in his palm, he teleported.

_Pop._

Sans landed outside town next to a great big, blue welcome sign.

**Welcome to Delta| Population: Growing**

Grinning, he nodded at the sign. “Sorry, didn’t _notice_ you there.”

Without waiting for a rebuttal, he teleported again. This time he landed at the base of Mount Ebott, the soft _pop_ of his teleportation the only sound to be heard for miles. Well, except for the howl of the wind. Looking up he could see a storm coming, the moon slowly being eclipsed by dark clouds. The lack of luminescent light made the forest ahead of him appear even darker. Good thing he wouldn’t be traversing it.

That’d be a real _pine_ in the neck.

With another _pop,_ he teleported to the mountain’s summit.

Being so high up, looking down at the shining city down below the mountain, only made him wonder how a human could possibly fall from such a height and survive. Every time, he questioned it. Flowers weren’t so soft that they could cushion a body. He had theorized that it was actually the barrier that cushioned the human’s fall. It hadn’t parted to let her through, but rather bent forward from the power of her soul, her fall had been slowed by the barrier pushing back against her decent, until the she fallen too far for the barrier’s magic to follow. The little human had pushed through just close enough to the ground to survive.

Or, so Sans theorized.

If he cared enough, which he didn’t, he could always ask Frisk directly what her fall had been like. That was more along Alphys’ line of work, though. Sans had stopped bothering with the barrier years before the human girl had fallen into their lives.

No, his own line of research was much more… theoretical.

With one last look Delta City, sans teleported again.

_Pop._

He landed just outside the ruins, his magic enough to get him past the Underground’s entrance, but not all the way to Snowdin. Not that he was in a hurry to arrive or return home. With his brother always patrolling or tired from always patrolling, Alphys and Undyne occupied by their own love lives, and Toriel busy reconnecting with Asgore and raising Frisk—There was no one to miss him.

The corners of his smile twitched, but didn’t drop. Work would distract him from those unwanted and unnecessary thoughts. He had no reason to be anything but content. To have everything every monster in the Underground had ever wanted now possible and only _then_ start to pull a frown…

Well, it wouldn’t be very _ice_ of him.

Sans chuckled just as he teleported to the main entrance of Snowdin.

_Pop._

He sighed a contended sigh at the familiar sight. Or, mostly familiar. The town was dark, all the homes and shops empty, abandoned not long after the barrier trapping the residents in the Underground had been lifted. The only light in the town came from its own natural luminescent glow and the decorated tree at the other end of the town. Not even the welcome sign was lit. He’d call it a real ghost town, but he doubts even Napstablook would live here. No one did anymore.

And Sans couldn’t blame them. Even if he would have been perfectly content to spend the rest of his days in the little town, he never expected his brother or the other residents to share his same sense of hopelessness. All from an incident that occurred well before he and his brother had moved to Snowdin.

It had taken Frisk threatening everything in the Underground to snap him out of his funk. Fighting the human over and over- and had he been a more narcissistic skeleton, Sans would have said it had filled with determination.

Then, one random reset, the fighting had stopped.

Sans had thought maybe Frisk had hit her head the last time she fell into the Underground. He hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, willing to ask her too many questions about it, should they reawaken some deeply buried memories. Like every reset prior, he had stayed mostly in the background, watching her choices, and for once the human refused to fight. Even with her life on the line, she hadn’t fought. It was enough to make him cautiously optimistic that Frisk would, at the very least, stop dusting his brother.

Not that he ever really remembered her doing it the first time, or second, third, fifth… But he knew when a reset occurred. The knowledge came to him as a feeling, no concrete evidence, but each time his spine would tingle, and the strongest feeling of déjà vu would strike his skull, feeling almost like a physical blow. It would leave him dazed for only a moment, but it was enough to let him know something wasn’t quite right. Conversations he never remembered the words to would repeat, and he would go through the motions of a normal day. Knowing that everything would reset and nothing anyone did really mattered made it really hard to take anything, anyone, seriously. He’d grown lazier by the day, thinking each one would be the day he stopped trying. But then he’d find his brother’s dusty remains, the pain a fresh wound every time. He never remembered enough to stop the murder from happening, never enough to change the outcome.

Then Frisk had stopped dusting monsters and started befriending them. Each reset that followed, she had come back friendlier and more determined than ever, making something he daren’t called hope build within him. The resets hadn’t stopped until she succeeded in breaking the barrier, at least twice, he thought. Not sure why it took two times, but he never asked.

It wasn’t important and Sans didn’t want to chance another reset.

He breathed out an amused sigh and started his lonely walk through the town. Only slowing as he passed Grilby’s. The place had closed soon after the barrier had broken, and he hadn’t seen the flame monster in a long time because of it. Like with most of Sans’ friends, they’d never been close enough to talk when not physically around each other. Certainly not close enough to share future plans and goals.

Two things Sans never had anyway. Unlike everyone else in the Underground, it seemed. They all had been so excited and hopeful, everyday looking up and thinking about what they would do once the barrier was down. Not that Sans had begrudged them their hopefulness. They just didn’t know what he knew. And Sans had been determined to keep it that way. Anything to keep that hopeful spark in his brother’s bright eyes.

Shaking his head, Sans continued walking. The years he had spent just existing were behind him. Not that he thought anything really mattered, it could still all go away one day. But while there was still some sort of motivation inside him, he would use it.

Gotta make up for lost time, and all.

Sans stopped in front of his and Papyrus’ old home. Looking at it with a wistful kind of longing. It’s interior was exactly the same as the one they lived in now. Save for one thing.

Instead of going in through the front door, Sans walked to left side. He placed a bony hand on the yellow wall and dragged his digits along it. The sound of wood scraping against something hard followed his movements. He didn’t stop until he came to a vertical parting in the wood, unnatural, but so thin as to be unnoticeable. Pulling back from the wall, he reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a silver key.

He opened the door, covered with wood and painted to blend with the rest of the house, and walked inside, closing the door behind him. The entire process made no sound, the door itself was silent, as it had needed to be. He hadn’t wanted to alert his brother to the existence of what lay inside.

Lest his dear brother become curious, lest he learn of Sans’ research. At first it had been to cover for his own lack of knowledge. That he was essentially trying to teach himself theoretical physics would have been too out of character for Papyrus to let go, and Sans would have been left with no choice but to tell him everything. He couldn’t lie to his brother, but he didn’t have to so long as the younger skeleton never asked questions.

The lights, attached to a sensor, clicked on as Sans walked further inside his small workshop. Tiled purple with blue walls, it was too small and sparse to be called a lab. Barely any tools and one piece of broken machinery in the back, covered by a blue tarp. Though, could a machine be called broken if it had never worked to begin with?

He’d built it not long after he and his brother had moved to Snowdin and his secret workshop was completed. He’d pursued the task with a fervor he’d not known himself capable of. That after it was completed, it hadn’t worked, was probably where his slacker attitude had first started. He barely remembered why he was building it, anyway. He had a name and a feeling.

W.D. Gaster and _guilt._

Both confusing, where was the guilt coming from and who was W.D. Gaster? Sans still didn’t know, but he knew it had something to do with the blueprints he had found in the Hotland labs during his brief stint as an assistant to the head scientist there. Though, he had never worked for Alphys and she couldn’t recall at all his time there or just where the blueprint had come from. But he had the badge to prove he had, indeed, worked there. Alphys hadn’t been able to explain it and he hadn’t pressed the issue. Though, maybe he should have.

The most Alphys had been able to do at was tell him the strange text written on the blueprint was wing dings. Meaning it was almost impossible to translate accurately. She had then politely told him she wouldn’t be needing his assistance and fired him from a job she didn’t remember him having.

Sans hadn’t thought anything of it until he had gone home and discovered the photo album. Filled with pictures of himself and his brother during their younger years. And one single picture of himself, Alphys, and a skeleton he doesn’t remember knowing. Even now, the face was a blur, and if not for the photo, he would have forgotten it completely.

Whoever this W.D. Gaster was, the blueprints had something to do with his disappearance and... it was probably Sans’ fault he was gone.

It was the only explanation he could think of for the guilt. The guilt that had led to the generally lazy skeleton to teach himself theoretical physics, to create an underground workshop, to build a machine he had no idea the function of. And still didn’t know, because when he’d finished building the thing, it hadn’t worked. It had blinked, blooped, then shuttered off.

He’d given up then, with the intent to maybe, one day go back to the machine once the demoralization that came with failure lessened.

Then a human had fallen into the Underground and the cycle had begun. And how could he focus on fixing the machine when nothing he or anyone else did mattered?

Now that the barrier was down and everyone had started their new lives, the resets had stopped; there was no excuse not to continue his work. What else was he doing with his life? Nothing, and it was hard to enjoy himself with the guilt that W.D. Gaster was lost somewhere, not enjoying the freedom of the above world because of something Sans had done.

W.D. Gaster? More like W.D. _Guilt._

Heh.

Sans chuckled to himself and pulled the blue tarp off of his machine. It was gray, cylindrical, nothing fancy. At least, not on the outside. There were different colored nobs and dials, it looked like every other high-tech science machine Sans had ever seen inside of Alphys’ lab. The only difference being the inside. It was just… a mess, a jumble of wires and pieces Sans still wasn’t entirely sure the function of. 

Even though he had no idea what it did, after so many years working on the machine, it was very _gear_ to his soul.

He’d been coming back every few days since moving to the above world. Though, it had taken some time before he actually mustered up the energy to begin working on the busted machine again. It was something to do, at the very least. Kept his mind off how empty home felt with Papyrus at work more often than not.

With that thought, he began his work. Using the few tools he owned, stashed away in cabinets in the wall, to pry open the back of the machine. He needed to see what had caused it to power off mid function. He’d already made the hypothesis that it was wiring related, just going through every single wire in the back of his machine was taking longer than Sans had anticipated.

He took his time, making sure every wire was connected properly, that the right kind of wire had been used. That nothing was crossed or had come undone. He didn’t keep track of time as he worked, not that he was ever one to do so even when timing mattered.

Eventually he came to a green and blue wire he thought had been mistakenly switched around during the building process. It was good a guess as any, and switching them around and trying to turn the machine back on wouldn’t hurt. Not like the thing could work worse than it already did… Well, it could explode, but Sans wouldn’t let the thought burst his optimistic bubble.

Chuckling to himself for what felt like the tenth time that night, Sans switched the wires, stood from his crouched position behind the machine, and turned it on. Time to test his luck. Heh.

At first, nothing happened. The machine sat quiet as it always has. Then he heard the telltale sounds of a machine booting up. The whir of fans and the hum of power going through its cables.

He watched, almost excited, as the machine’s knobs and buttons began to light up. His eye-sockets widened, however, when the machine started to shake violently. It rocked on the floor, scratching the tile and buzzing in a way that definitely sounded dangerous.

Thinking quickly, Sans reached for the machine’s short power plug, intent on pulling it out. But as his digits got close, electricity burst from the outlet, striking him, causing him to hiss and shake his hand. Smoke started to seep from the machine’s seams, dark clouds poured from where the back panel was open. A high-pitched ringing started to emanate from the machine, loud enough to be painful. Sans covered both his ear-holes, not that his bony hands were very effective in keeping the sound out. Seeing sparks come out of the open back panel was what finally convinced Sans he needed to leave. He’d flip a breaker in the house to cut the power, come back with a fire-extinguisher… Something he probably should have already had in the lab.

Oh well, live and learn- or burn, in this situation.

Sans gathered his magic to teleport, but just as he felt the area around him shift, the machine exploded. Heat blew past him, through him, Sans felt as though he was being torn apart. He shouted, clutching around himself as though to hold himself together. Teleportation had never been so painful. His body was being pulled into a thousand different directions. His teeth rattled like they were going to fall out. Just as he could feel the tips of his fingers disintegrating into dust—

Everything went white.

* * *

Oh, man. Did anybody get the number of that bus? Because Sans felt like he’d been run over, backed over, a real case of navicular homicide. Only Sans was still alive… probably.

He wiggled his fingers just to see if he could. They moved, then he did the same with his toes. They moved as well as they could inside his socks and slippers. Not really wanting to, but knowing he needed to, Sans forced his eye-sockets open. It took a minute for his magic to flare up and the whites return to his eyes. And when they did, his vision was blurred. All he could see was darkness. He blinked a few times, and slowly his sight returned.

The first thing Sans noticed after regaining his vision was the snow. It was falling hard around him, cold and wet. He shivered, then winced. He felt like he’d been in a fight, or several, but the familiar feeling of a reset was thankfully absent, so likely not.

“Phew,” Sans sat up and rubbed his skull. “That was some guilt-trip.”

Maybe he’d teleported far enough to strain his magic. It was possible, a fight or flight thing after realizing the machine was going to explode. He took in his surroundings, blinking in confusion; they were familiar. Looking around, he could tell he was still in Snowdin, so he hadn’t teleported too far away. What confused him was that the particular view of Snowdin he was looking at could only be seen from inside of his old home, from the front. But he wasn’t in a home. There was no indication that there had ever been a house where he was sitting.

Sans rubbed his skull again, aw crud, had he blown the house up? Not that they were using it anymore, but when Papyrus found out he was definitely going to _explode._ And Papyrus had such a booming voice when he was mad; might be better for Sans’ developing skull-ache to just wait for his sibling to find out on his own. If he ever did. As far as Sans knew, his brother didn’t have any plans to go back to the Underground anytime soon. Good. Gave Sans time to come up with a _banging_ excuse.

Groaning, Sans pushed himself to his feet. He almost frowned at the realization of what an explosion would really mean.

No more workshop. No more machine. No more blueprint. No more photo album. No more badge.

Without that blueprint, there was nothing for him to go off of to build a new machine. Without the photo album, he was bound to forget why he needed to build it in the first place. Without seeing the wing dings printed on the blueprints, he’d forget what the W.D. stood for. Without his old badge he’d forget that he ever even worked at the Hotland labs…

Eh, there were worse things in life. Sans shrugged the realization off, taking the opportunity to brush fallen snow off his shoulders and the top of his skull. Must have been laying in the snow for some time to get this covered. And besides, maybe with everything else, the guilt would fade too. Not a bad turn of events.

Shivering, Sans shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

Yeah, definitely nothing to lose his _cool_ over.

Snowdin was colder than he ever remembered it being. Darker too, now that he thought about it. The tree at the end of town wasn’t on meaning there was nothing to provide light, what with the faux-clouds up above covering the natural luminescence of the Underground. His explosion must have knocked the power out, blown a fuse or something.

Oh well, a problem for another day. Right now, Sans was cold, and his mood wasn’t doing so hot either.

He was too tired to teleport, so he was forced to walk through the snow. Passing by empty houses that somehow looked more abandoned than when he’d first arrived. The dark will do that sometimes, he supposed. Again, he found himself slowing in front of the old bar he used to frequent. After the night’s disappointments, he could really go for a drink. The ketchup he had back in Delta just didn’t cut it. Even the expensive stuff tasted off, like the humans focused on the tomato and garlic flavor over the vinegar.

Sans looked over at the bar, smile forlorn, only to do a doubletake. The sign wasn’t lit up, but through the windows he could definitely see a light emanating from the back of the bar. And if his theory about the power being out was true, then there was only one monster bright enough to be seen from the outside.

Sans laughed at his good fortune. Looked like Grilby was back in Snowdin. Probably to grab anything he’d left behind, or close up for good, or maybe he, like Sans, had felt the cold call of nostalgia.

Either way, it wouldn’t be very cool of Sans to pass by without at least a _hail_ and farewell.

Chuckling, Sans stepped forward and pushed the front door open.

“ _Bonejour,_ ” he loudly greeted the flame monster, taking the opportunity to show off how he’d learned to make puns out of other human languages. It had been almost a year since he’d last seen the bar owner, and Sans planned to use the opportunity to fire up some of his favorite flame puns. 

The lack of a reaction was the first sign something wasn’t quite right with the bar owner. Though, it really should have been the second. How could he have missed that the light coming from the back of the bar was purple. The monster at the back, behind the bar counter was purple. Grilby? Was Grilby purple now? The monster on the other side of the bar, paused with one hand in the air, holding a dust cloth over the dirty bottles on the rack.

Looked like the bar owner had been in the middle of cleaning up. The bar itself was covered in cobwebs, there was dust on every surface, and he couldn’t even make out what the bottles in the back on the bar rack were, they were so filthy. Surely so much dust and dirt couldn’t have accumulated in less than a year? Sans had gone an entire year without cleaning his room before, and it hadn’t looked half as bad as Grilby’s bar did now.

“A skeleton? But I thought…” Sans heard the flame monster mutter to himself.

A single eye-socket rose as he looked his friend up and down. Something was up, was off- _color_ with the whole situation. Purple flame, run down looking bar- even Grilby’s attire was different. A long black coat with a white-furred collar, a red tie.

But then, the human world was known to change a monster; _hue_ was Sans to judge?

“They’ll want to know…” The flame monster muttered again, and Sans decided it was time to join in on the conversation.

“Grilby?” He questioned, walking forward until he came to a stop in front of the bar counter, hopping up to sit on a dirty bar stool. It’d be difficult to talk if he didn’t; he was only just as tall as the counter itself. 

“And if I am?” The flame monster snapped in response, as if irritated to be interrupted. “Who are you? What are you doing out past curfew?”

Grilby stared at Sans like he wasn’t glad to see him and the cold reception would have hurt, had Sans let it. Instead he just shook his head, perplexed by his old friend’s odd behavior. He sure sounded like Grilby, well, except for the attitude. But what was that about a curfew?

“Funny,” Sans laughed awkwardly. Grilby had never been one to crack jokes, though Sans supposed he could appreciate the attempt. Because that’s what this had to be.

“I don’t see how,” Grilby said, turning to face him fully. “Some strange skeleton I’ve never met before comes into my bar after hours, after _curfew_ \- and you think it’s funny?” There was a suspicion that couldn’t be faked in his old friend’s tone, and it shook Sans to the bone.

“Grilby…” Sans said. “… Don’t you recognize me?” He asked, trying to tone down his confusion.

It was apparently the wrong thing to ask, though, because the monster’s purple flame burned higher in anger. Even a different color, Sans recognized the signs of _friendly fire_ headed his way.

“Don’t play games, skeleton.” Was the flame monster’s response.

Sans started to sweat, and it wasn’t just because Grilby was burning hotter than Sans had ever seen him burn before. “C’mon, I used to come here all the—”

“Are you trying to implicate me?” Grilby accused, cutting Sans off.

Implicate? In what, Sans wanted to ask, but he got the feeling more questions would only add fuel to the fire.

“Woah there pal, don’t go getting all hot under the collar.” Sans said, palms up to indicate he didn’t want any trouble. “You don’t know me, I got it.”

A theory started to form in the back of Sans’ skull, though he didn’t like it. The machine he had built had something to do with time, that much he knew. What if when it had blown up, the force of the explosion had thrown him back in time? Far back enough that it was before he and his brother had moved to Snowdin. Back far enough that Grilby still had trouble controlling his heat, was going through a purple phase, and was _terrible_ at customer service. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that had ever happened to the skeleton. But he would need more _time_ to think on it. Heh.

Plenty of _time_ for a drink then. After all, _when_ else would he ever have an opportunity like this?

“You got any ketchup in this place?” Sans asked, a blatant attempt to change the topic. “I’m usually more talkative after I’m good and sauced.”

Grilby groaned, but his eyes were no less suspicious than before, and without another word, the bartender turned away from him and back to his dusty bottles. Movements slow, contemplative.

Under his breath Sans muttered “Well, that backfired.”

Grilby’s flaming head snapped around to glare at Sans through impossibly narrow eyes, to which the skeleton only shrugged. If he remembered right, it had taken some time for the fire monster to come around to Sans’ particular _char_ -isma. Maybe even further back in the timeline, Grilby had been an even bigger hot head.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Grilby started. “But since you _are_ here…” Grilby turned back around to face him, seemingly calmer than before. A single bright finger was raised, pointing off to the side of the bar counter, and Sans’ gaze followed that finger. It was pointing to the left, where a small metal container held napkins, salt, pepper, mustard, and—Ketchup!

Grinning, Sans stretched for it, not above placing a knee on the counter top in order to reach his delicious drink. Ha, even years in the past and Grilby knew to keep the good stuff on tap. The bottle was glass, looking a lot fancier than Sans was used to. But it didn’t matter, ketchup was ketchup.

As he reached for it, the flame monster continued talking.

“Drink all you want,” Grilby told him, that suspicious tone ever present. “Just don’t leave until I return.”

That only elicited another shrug from Sans. “Sure thing, pal.”

Where would he go? His home was gone, the town empty save for the bar. It was cold outside, and like always, Grilby’s was the warmest place to be in Snowdin. The ketchup was lukewarm, just how he liked it, and just for a short while Sans could pretend like he wasn’t probably thrown back in time and that everything was still as it once was. Before a small human had come to the Underground, before the resets, before the surface world had brought everyone closer together while simultaneously drifting them apart.

Wow, that almost brought a frown to his face.

And if that wasn’t a sign he needed some ketchup, Sans didn’t know what was. Deciding tonight was one of those nights, he unscrewed the top.

“Maybe when you get back, we can ketch-up.” Sans said with a wink in the flame monster’s direction.

Grilby grunted in disgust then disappeared to the backroom of his bar, the door closing behind him, sign tacked to it, stating _employees only,_ swinging from the momentum.

Once again Sans shrugged, not really getting the fire man’s problem. Maybe he was just embarrassed to have his bar seen in such a dingy state. If this Grilby had known Sans, he would know that the skeleton was the last monster to judge another’s cleanliness. But as Grilby had yet to meet Sans… or had met him, but at the wrong time? And probably won’t remember meeting him once everything was said and done—Sans didn’t really hold the curt behavior against him.

Forgiving skeleton that he was, Sans wouldn’t make a _tissue_ of it.

Ahahahaha-ha-ha-haaaaah…

Without hesitation, Sans knocked back the ketchup bottle and chugged. A comfort drink if there ever was one. Or so he thought. The vinegar taste was stronger than he remembered, the whole taste an almost unfamiliar tang. If not for the distinct texture, he would have questioned what he was drinking. Was this really ketchup? Sans slammed the half-empty bottle back on the table, coughing and glaring at the fancy bottle with mild, amused annoyance. That sure was some strong ketchup. What did Grilby do, drown the tomatoes in vinegar? Heck, if Sans had wanted to get plastered, he would have asked for a shot. Not that he was the type for it.

With one digit, he pushed the bottle further away. His smile never wavered, even as the vinegar burned down his throat, heating his chest in a painful way. He placed a hand over his white shirt, feeling to make sure his ribs weren’t actually melting. Mean as it might be to think, but if all of Grilby’s drinks were like that, it’s no wonder the bar was empty. It had probably taken a while for Grilby to figure out the right tomato past to vinegar ratio. Good thing Sans was here to set him down the right path early.

Though, would anything he did now affect the future? Until he knew more about just what had happened, he would need to be careful not to let too much slip. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about running into himself here. Maybe—

The sound of a door opening pulled Sans from his own theorizing thoughts, and he waited for Grilby to come out of the back room so Sans could give him some well-meaning criticism. He waited, but the fire monster never stepped out. Actually, now that he was looking, the door to the back room had never opened. At the exact time Sans noticed, a breeze blew into the bar from behind him, causing him to shiver. Cold.

Had Grilby gone out the back and come back in the front? Maybe flame monster had needed to cool off.

Sans turned his head, ready to greet Grilby with a joke, only to stiffen at what he saw. Cold sweats rolled down Sans’ face and the chill from the wind sank into his bones. And in that moment, Sans didn’t think he could have moved even if he wanted to.

Even after living in Snowdin for so long, Sans had never been _frozen_ in fear before. And if asked, he would never admit that might be what was happening to him now. And he definitely couldn’t say why.

It definitely couldn’t be because, standing in the bar’s wide doorway, was a massive monster. Tall and wide, the monster nearly took up the whole of the door frame. It blocked out most of the town’s natural luminescent light, creating a shadow that stretched from the entrance of the bar to just where Sans was sitting. He swallowed down nothing, the icy chill of the monster’s red stare having long since put out the burn in his throat.

Outside of King Asgore, Sans had never seen a monster so large. Though, why should it matter? Sans had always been on the short size, so height alone was never enough to intimidate him. In fact, Sans couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt intimidated. The ability to teleport and knowledge of resets had really taken the thrill out of life.

Not content to stand in the doorway, the large monster walked forward, the wooden floor creaking under its weight with every step. It didn’t take long for Sans to get a better look at the monster. The _skeleton_ monster.

He was tall, taller than Papyrus. Wider than him too. Was he bigger than W-w… Gaster had been? The memory of the skeleton was already so vague, he can’t possibly begin to know. What if he _was_ Gaster? Had he been thrown back in time too? Or did he just exist in this time period unrelated to the machine’s capabilities? 

The monster was staring at him like he didn’t believe what he was seeing and Sans couldn’t help but do the same.

The strange skeleton’s clothes did nothing to distract from his impressive size. And they said black was supposed to be slimming! Sans blinked just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Because not only was the skeleton the largest Sans had ever seen, he’s also the best dressed out of… well anyone he had ever known. And Sans was good friends with royalty.

A black undershirt, shining like it was made of silk. The sleeves were up to the skeleton’s elbows with the top two buttons undone. A fashion choice, or had the guy left in a hurry? If it was the latter, Sans didn’t want to know the reason why…

Okay, he _did_ , but that was only because it could possibly have something to do with his presence in the bar and Grilby’s disappearance to the backroom.

The only thing covering the undershirt was a dark red vest with thin black pin stripes. It looked tight on the skeleton’s massive body, and Sans doubted it was the most comfortable outfit. What with the dress pants, the belt, and black dress shoes with _laces?_ Didn’t matter that they looked fancy and expensive with their red and gold accents—The monster would have to _bend over_ to tie them. No level of fashion was worth that.

More striking than the clothes was the skeleton’s smile, it was wide as Sans’ own, though much less welcoming. Sharp teeth were clenched together, a single gold tooth glinting in his smile. It was the most threatening smile Sans had ever seen. Did it even count as a smile at that point?

The monster certainly didn’t look like any scientist Sans had ever seen. But then, Sans doubted he looked very scientific at a glance.

Their staring contest was broken first by the stranger, who had come to a full stop directly in front of Sans, the monster’s shadow completely covering his much smaller form.

The stranger chuckled, then asked, “and what have we got here?” The voice was deep, rough, but jovial. Sounding like he stepped straight out of one of those old mobster movies Frisk loved to watch.

The friendly tone gave Sans hope that in spite of the monster’s intimidating appearance, he didn’t want a confrontation. All good then, as Sans wasn’t sure what fighting the strange skeleton would do to the future timeline, if anything he did in this timeline mattered at all. 

Them both being skeletons, Sans went for his tried and true classics when answering the most likely rhetorical question.

“Tibia honest,” Sans responded with a forced chuckle. “I’m not really sure, myself. You pa- _tella_ me.”

Not his finest work, but Sans cut himself a break. It had been a while since he’d had to joke under pressure. His bone-saw was rusty, so to speak.

The large skeleton only continued to stare at Sans; his smile replaced with a look of confusion. What, had the monster never heard a joke before? Sans’ puns weren’t _that_ bad, he’d definitely told worse. He tensed, prepared to teleport if the stranger turned violent. Only for it to be his turn to look at the other skeleton in confusion.

The monster had started to chuckle, a low menacing sound, then he placed his large hands on his stomach and threw his head back, bellowing the most guttural and intense laugh Sans had ever heard. The skeleton laughed, and laughed, and laughed, his large body shaking from the force of it. He showed no signs of stopping and for a moment Sans wondered if the guy had snapped. His jokes tended to do that with the more violence prone monsters. 

Then the stranger wiped an invisible tear from his eye-socket, sucking in a breath and straightening back up. Those red eyes almost looked warm and Sans thought maybe he could make a friend out of this monster. Maybe it would mess with the timeline, but Sans doubted it. He suspected nothing he did in this time would affect the future. Besides, what was the alternative? Ignore the skeleton? That would be a level of rude Sans wasn’t comfortable with, and Papyrus had nagged better manners into him than that.

“Got a real funny-bone, don’t-cha?” The skeleton asked, voice wheezy from how hard he had been laughing.

Sans shrugged and leaned back against the bar; legs spread and posture loose. Intentionally appearing more relaxed than he felt. It never hurt to be underestimated. Literally.

“I’d say yes, but I haven’t got the nerve,” Sans responded casually. The urge to laugh at his own joke was strong, but Sans’ will was stronger. Once he got started it was hard to stop, and laughing too hard would leave him vulnerable. And until he was sure of his situation, he couldn’t afford that luxury.

Something the larger skeleton didn’t seem to worry about, as he laughed once again, shorter than before, but no less unnerving. Heh.

The stranger grinned down at Sans, and it was an unsettling enough look that Sans had to second guess his own ever smiling choice. Not that he could help it, most of the time. There was just too much comedy to be found in the world. Even now, with a six foot something skeleton towering over him, Sans couldn’t help but imagine how hilarious they must look from the outside.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” The stranger asked, sounding sure of himself.

“What makes you say that?” Sans answered the other skeleton’s question with a question of his own.

Another question he never should have asked, Sans realized too late. The larger skeleton took it as an excuse to place both his hands on the counter behind Sans, caging him in. And had those teeth looked any less sharp, Sans would have snickered at the attempt of intimidation. The tough guy routine was always a funny one to witness. Though, the one usually trying to pull it off was his brother, and not some giant skeleton who looked like he could snap bones with just his jaw strength.

The strange skeleton’s good humor from before was gone, though the smile stayed. It was just too bad for the stranger that Sans’ wasn’t the type to be intimidated. He’d only ever felt threatened during one recurring fight in his life, and big as he was, this skeleton would never measure up to it.

“Now let me make something clear—I’m the one who asks the questions here, capisce? You cooperate, and maybe you’ll get out of here alive.” The stranger threatened with a smile that was too close for comfort.

“Whatever you slay, buddy.” Sans joked.

The other’s eye-sockets narrowed, and he lifted a large hand as if to strike the smaller skeleton. Sans tensed, but the movement toward his face was too slow to slow to be meant for a blow.

“Somethin’ about you seems…” The stranger ran his thick bony fingers over the top of Sans’ skull, the touch light and very unwelcome.

“What—what are you…” Sans was taken off guard and seconds away from teleporting. He’d never been one to shy away from touch, but something about the way this skeleton ran his digits over Sans’ skull really rattled his bones.

“Humerus me,” the skeleton responded, still sounding amused.

Sans laughed nervously; the whole thing was too strange to be funny. Well, almost. Everything was funny in its own odd way. Curfews, giant skeletons- turns out Snowdin was a crazy place before he and his brother had showed up. One day Sans would look back on this and laugh. One far, far away day.

For now, he just stayed still, allowing the stranger to turn his head this way and that, run his large hand over the back of Sans’ skull. Feeling him like he’d never seen one before. What, did the guy never look in a mirror? Sure, he looked a lot more _textured_ than Sans, but still.

“So smooth,” the stranger murmured.

It was the perfect opportunity to interject with a joke. Being called smooth was such a comedic opening that he’d be remiss to let it slip by. But before he could get a word out, his jaw was gripped tightly and tilted upwards, forcing him to look directly into the larger skeleton’s eye sockets. They glowed a menacing red, the light reflecting off the sharp gold tooth that was all too visible.

Was the threatening look intentional? Why would a monster, outside of the royal guard, ever bother to appear a threat? Could… Perhaps…

More credence was being given to his back in time theory. Back far enough that he ended up in a time right after the war with the humans had only just ended? It would explain Grilby’s tense behavior and the lack of patrons in the bar. From what he’d read at the Libraby, Snowdin had taken several decades to really take off, most monsters preferring the warmer temperatures or water areas. Not until overpopulation in the capital had monsters begun venturing out into the colder regions. Even then, Snowdin had never been the most populated of towns. With such a low population, it didn’t even qualify as a village. With a population of less than one-hundred and fifty, it was technically a hamlet.

But then, Sans had never been one for labels. If the citizens of Snowdin wanted to call their home a town, what did he care? It just added to the town’s quirk. A great, interesting, place to live.

Why did they ever leave?

That’s a bad thought and Sans quickly cast it out of his mind. He was usually so careful about what thoughts and emotions he allowed himself to feel. Must be the cold, it was chilling his sense of humor.

The strange touch stopped and Sans didn’t bother trying to stop his sigh of relief. He couldn’t very well let the monster think his touch had been wanted, welcome, or appropriate.

“Definitely not from around here,” the other skeleton whispered to himself. Though, not quite soft enough for Sans not to hear, if that was even the intent.

“You look like you crawled out of a dumpster,” the stranger grinned at him, eyeing the smaller skeleton up and down like he thought the clothes he wore came from a dumpster too.

Sans’ own eye-sockets narrowed. He had a snarky quip ready to go— _And you look like you escaped from a balloon factory—_ but he thought better of it. Not because he was intimidated, but because if a fight did start, Sans only had the one jacket. If it got torn during a fight, the chances of finding another like it in his size were extremely low. And it was cold outside.

So, he shrugged, maintaining his nonchalant façade.

“A skeleton’s gotta sleep where he can.” No joke that time, after the complete disregard for Sans’ personal space and disrespect toward his threads, Sans’ didn’t think the monster deserved his material. Mostly because the stranger seemed to actually enjoy it. Which would have been a welcome change of pace had it been literally anyone else.

“That I hear,” the stranger responded. Like Sans sleeping in a dumpster would be some normal, everyday revelation. “What I’m not hearin’, is why I haven’t ever seen you around before.”

That same deep, menacing timbre from before returned and Sans’ couldn’t stop his flinch at the abrupt shift in tone. What was this monster’s deal? One minute he was laughing at Sans’ jokes, the next he was getting too touchy and acting all threatening, the red in his eye-sockets glowing brighter.

“You know every monster?” Sans asked, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

“From Snowdin- and every skeleton, yeah.” Was the quick rebuttal. “And you’re not from here.”

Sans, not about to argue, simply replied, “I’m from out of town.”

“Way outta town, I take it. What’s a daisy like you doin’ in a place like this?”

“Daisy?” Sans parroted. If there was joke, Sans didn’t get it.

“You’re wearing’pink, ain’t ya?”

“… Yeah?” Sans said, waiting for the punchline.

“So that makes you a daisy.” The other skeleton replied with a nasty grin. Was it an insult, then?

… Sans didn’t get it, but out of respect for the art, he chuckled anyway.

Which was, once again, the wrong thing to do.

The large skeleton growled and Sans almost felt annoyance at the rapid change in attitude. One minute, everything was rosy, the next, he’s pushing up daisies. What in carnation was going on?

“Now listen here, you little _daisy_ — That’s the third time I’ve repeated myself, and I’m not a man who likes repeatin’ himself.” Faster than Sans could follow, the larger skeleton summoned a sharp bone with his magic, and pointed it under Sans’ chin with a level of speed he hadn’t thought someone so big could possess.

“Now I’d hate to cut such a pretty face, but you won’t want me repeatin’ myself a fourth time.” The tip of the bone pricked the underside of Sans’ jaw. “Usually it’s three strikes and you’re out, but I’m lettin’ you take one more swing.”

The larger skeleton’s speed was interesting, the whole situation was interesting. It was something new. Being called _pretty_ was new. But the threats? Sans eyed the stranger with an air of boredom about him and simply responded, “I’m more of a basketball man, myself.”

Then, unperturbed, he placed a bony hand over the one currently holding a knife to his face.

“You first, _buddy_ ,” Sans said. He was always one to hold what he knew close to his chest, and if the stranger wanted to know who Sans was, well, all the more reason not to tell. The whites of his own eyes glowed brighter, though the other skeleton didn’t seem to notice. The monster once again barked out a laugh, then looking at Sans like he didn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was _hearing._

“… You don’t know?” The stranger asked, like Sans _should_ know.

Some ego on the guy, no wonder he was so big and wore such restricting clothes. He needed them to contain all that hot air.

“You must’ve had that dumpster locked tight if you’ve never heard of me before.” Just as quickly as it’d appeared, the bone dagger was wisped away in a cloud of red smoke.

“No wonder you don’t have any manners, you haven’t a clue who you’re dealin’ with, do ya?” It was said so matter-of-factly that Sans wondered if he had somehow overlooked the large skeleton in the history books. 

“The name’s Sans, Sans the skeleton.” A hand was held out to him. “And you, lil’ daisy?”

Sans soul thudded in his ribcage, the large hand was directly in front of him, but he could no longer see it. Everything was a blur as those words played over and over in his head.

Sans, Sans the skeleton. Sans. The skeleton.

**_Sans._ **

Anything the larger skeleton— _Sans_ said after was drowned out by the buzz in the back of Sans- _his_ , skull. His smile waivered as the answer to his situation rattled around inside his skull. If only it would stop bouncing around, he’d know what to do.

“Take my hand, lil’ daisy.” It was an order said through sharp, clenched teeth. Whatever humor the other Sans had been getting out his lack of knowledge was apparently disappearing. 

Just like he was about to. Haha.

Before his smile could fall, Sans teleported.

_Pop._

To the mountain’s summit, completely covered by snow.

_Pop._

To Mount Ebott’s base, the forest behind him looking gnarled and dead.

_Pop._

He landed heavy in the snow. It was too dark and he was too far from the city’s welcome sign to read it. But he didn’t give himself time to collect his thoughts or to regain his usual cool. And though his smile was still stretched across his face as he stumbled forward, it was painfully forced. A wretched, familiar feeling of hopelessness was filling him. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since those first few battles in the castle corridor. And given the circumstances, it didn’t make sense.

It was just a name, _his_ name, so why did it fill him with so much dread? Like he was being faced with a problem that had no solution. Just like the resets all over again.

Sans stopped in front of the city’s welcome sign, hands on his knees, out of a breath he didn’t need. The sign was red instead of the familiar blue. Its paint was chipped and the edges rusted. It was obviously old and not well cared for. However, the black words written across it were clear, looking freshly painted. The strength in Sans’ legs gave way as he read the sign, his knees hitting the snow as he looked on with wide eye-sockets.

**Welcome to Fell City | Population: Shrinking**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will likely be the longest chapter of the fic, on account of all the exposition I had to fit in. I want to explore OG Sans' character with this, focusing on his wants, his intelligence, and I think the perfect foil to match up against Sans is Sans himself. 
> 
> Feedback is welcome and appreciated. 
> 
> 1900s Slang:  
> Daisy - none too masculine


	2. Chapter 2

_Pop._

Sans blinked once, twice, looking from the empty bar stool to his own held out hand.

Had that little… no, not possible. It was a well-known fact that Sans was the only monster in all of the world who could teleport. It was a powerful ability that required a lot of magic, more than some puny, calcium deficient looking skeleton could pull off.

The ability couldn’t be called rare, because that implied there were others who had it. Teleportation was a one-of-a-kind type of power that had monsters jumping at their own shadows and turning to look down every dark alley they passed. Just out of fear that the most mobile of the Gaster brothers would be there. The terror he had painstakingly crafted for years around the use of such an ability was a point of pride for Sans.

But if not teleportation, what other explanation could there be for the loud, familiar _pop_ sound followed by the sudden disappearance of the runt? Unless the runt had turned to dust right in front of him out of sheer terror after learning just who he’d been insulting, but as there was no dust on the bar stool; Sans couldn’t think of another explanation.

And _sans_ any other explanation, he would have to accept the most obvious one available to him, for the time being. Could be teleportation was a skeletal ability. There wasn’t a large enough population of them to really know. Only three- now four.

But if the runt had teleported, that would mean….

Why, of all the disrespectful, insolent, downright _rude_ —That little daisy had run out on him!

Sans’ open hand clenched into a fist, the bones pressed together tightly as he shook with barely contained fury.

“That little…” Glaring at where the stranger had been sitting, Sans slammed his fist onto the counter, cracking it. “Grilby, get your flamin’ ass out here!” He shouted, anger burning hot in his chest.

Just wait until he catches that grifter, Sans will show him what comes of taking one of the Gaster brothers for a sucker. He’ll bend those slender fingers back until he hears them _snap_ , and he won’t stop until that daisy apologizes _proper_ for his rude behavior. He’ll—

“You called?” Grilby said loftily, interrupting Sans’ angry internal tirade and acting like a man who’s done no wrong. The flame monster looked around the bar, from the bar stool, to Sans, to the door. A slight smile spreading across the man’s face as he noticed the lack of miniature skeleton in the room.

“Who the fuck else?” Sans snapped. His language always deteriorated with his mood, and right now he was in a real fucking bad one. Called before the sun could even rise about some strange skeleton, only to show up and have the stranger act all uppity and disappear like he had that right. And now this trash was smiling at Sans like _he_ was the one who messed up.

If only Grilby could read a fucking room.

“You lost him,” the flame monster announced, eyes slight in that taunting way.

Sans responded by reaching across the counter, grabbing Grilby by the front of his cheap jacket, and pulling him half way over it to glare directly into the flame monster’s face. He’s not about to be disrespected twice in one night. Especially not by some do-nothing bar keep.

“Might lose somethin’ else if you don’t watch your fuckin’ tone.” Sans threatened

“You can’t kill me, big brother’s orders.” The flame monster smirked at him. But Grilby wasn’t as effective at coming off unthreatened as the little skeleton had, Sans noted. He could see the purple flames losing their brightness, he could see the shadow of fear darkening those lilac eyes. Grilby shook slightly in Sans’ grip, his breathing was shallow and uneven from poorly concealed panic.

Not that he blamed the flame monster. In all honesty, they both knew Sans had killed for less than a little back talk. Just like they both knew, Gaster’s orders be damned, he’d kill Grilby if he pushed the familiar attitude too far. Sans didn’t tolerate flipmouths well on the best of days, and today was not turning out to be a good fucking day.

It was reassuring though, to see that after the disappearing stint that runt had pulled, he hadn’t actually lost his terrifying touch. That little daisy’s nonchalance had simply been a fluke. The knowledge did wonders for Sans’ temper.

His grip on the other’s jacket loosened, but he didn’t let go. His expression shifted from murderous to calculating. Both threatening in their own, unique ways. Grilby might have gotten the point; that he couldn’t talk to Sans like they were anything close to equals. But Sans still needed to hammer that nail in deeper. Maybe splinter the wood in the process, it all depended on how well Grilby understood the deal that was about to be made.

And if it came across as Sans taking his anger at the little daisy out on Grilby, then he had that right too.

He lowered the other monster just enough that his feet touched the ground. Enough that Sans once again towered over him, eyes glowing bright as he regarded the smaller monster with a calm he didn’t feel. The thinnest wisp of red magic beginning to leak out of his left eye-socket.

Grilby gulped and Sans smiled at the sound. 

“How’d you like to lose another bar?” He asked casually, like he hadn’t been a hair’s breath away from ending the flame monster’s life. Sans could let Grilby go now, but even the bravest of monsters lost their bravado when Sans was so close. And no one had ever called Grilby brave. The other’s flame belying just how slimy he really was.

“You… you wouldn’t!” Grilby shouted like a man afraid to raise his voice. “Where else would I go? Wh- where else would you get your _mustard?_ ”

Oh, bad move. Trying for sympathy, trying to make it out that Sans needed him in any way. Like he wasn’t some disposable piece of trash that was only spared the compactor because Gaster had taken some small ounce of pity on him. When would he learn things weren’t the same as they were ten years ago? Sans had moved up and on from the days where Grilby could be considered anywhere within the realm of his equal.

“Not my problem,” Sans said. “My problem is your attitude, talkin’ to me anyway you want.”

“No- no I… I didn’t mean—” Grilby began, only for Sans to cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Was losin’ one bar not enough? Gettin’ kicked outta Fell?” They were rhetorical questions, but Grilby still not getting the point, answered anyway.

“It was one mistake!” Grilby began heatedly, like he was about to start up that long dead argument. Like he didn’t already know Sans hated repeating himself.

“Don’t,” Sans warned. “You got off better than ya deserved.” Considering Grilby was still alive, Sans wasn’t wrong. Not that he ever was anyway, at least where trash like Grilby was concerned.

Sans was already thinking about how easy it would be. The bar was old, fire resistant by the same magic that allowed the flame monster to wear clothes. Course a fire would have been a dull way to do it. Fire’s take everything out quick and clean. Good for taking out competition or doing in the businesses that refused to pay their bills, but not when the intention was for the recipient to really suffer. Fires were just so impersonal, a bat or crowbar, however…

Yeah, yeah… even if their conversation went exactly the way Sans wanted, he might send some of his boys back in Fell City down to Snowdin anyway. Have them smash the place up real good. Might actually do Grilby some good. Remind him just low down in the pecking order he was. That the shitty old bar he clung to was a fucking _privilege_ given to him by the Gaster brothers. And they could take it way just as easily as they had his bar back in Fell City.

Grilby has been skating on thin ice for the past three months, and he’s burning through it fast. 

“Ya see, my bro only said I couldn’t kill ya, he didn’t say nothin’ about your bar…” Sans trailed off, the amusement he derived from tormenting Grilby slowly starting to creep into his voice. “… Unless ya were to apologize for disrespectin’ me and lettin’ that little daisy go.”

And there it was. If his brothers were to find out about his first meeting with the new skeleton, it wouldn’t be Sans taking the fall for him escaping. Wasn’t really his fault, anyway. Grilby should have known to drug the bastard’s drink. 

“Bu… but I…” Grilby’s gaze darted around the bar, taking in all he had left in the world. A dirty bar with no patrons. It was more than most had these days.

Grilby looked down at where Sans had his jacket gripped, voice soft as he finally said, “I’m sorry.”

Sans grunted.

“… Sir,” Grilby added dispiritedly.

Sans grinned and released his hold on Grilby’s jacket. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He mocked, condescension dripping off every word, chuckling when the flame monster stumbled back from the abrupt release, hitting and rattling the alcohol bottles on his back shelf.

“I was startin’ to think that runt’s bad manners had rubbed off on ya,” Sans continued conversationally.

Grilby didn’t say anything as he straightened his jacket and dusted off his shoulders. Instead the flame monster watched Sans through trepid eyes. Finally, not answering Sans’ rhetorical remarks.

Reaching behind his vest and into his left breast pocket for a cigar, Sans nodded approvingly. Lesson learned; it was back to business. The mark of a professional was being able to turn down the heat after a successful negotiation. Threats would become meaningless if after the desired results were achieved, he went and carried out the threat anyway. 

“Did you know he could teleport?” Sans asked.

“He can teleport?” Grilby simply parroted back, voice still full of that wonderful tamed quality. “That would explain why I didn’t notice him coming into town…”

“So, you didn’t see nothin’ until he walked into this shit hole like it was open for business?” Sans asked, eyes carefully observing the other monster for any signs of deception… or disrespect.

“It _is_ open for business—” Grilby started defensively.

Sans snorted, “course it is, course it is.”

“I… I mean, yes, I didn’t see anything until he was already at the counter,” Grilby said, sounding just the right level of submissive.

Sans reached around to his back pocket to grab a lighter. “And what did the guy want? Couldn’t be your company.”

Grilby sniffed, affronted by Sans’ intentional jab, but too shaken from earlier confrontation to quip back. Good, looked like Sans had hammered that nail in deep. He couldn’t have the guy thinking they were pals just because he made Sans’ favorite drink. Just because, back before Sans’ name meant something, he and Grilby might have been…

Frowning at finding no lighter, Sans checked his other back pocket. Nothing there either. Seemed that in his haste, he had forgotten his lighter back home. Not that the rush could be blamed, after all a skeleton monster was a rare thing.

Though rare as they were, he still hadn’t expected to walk in and see that choice piece of calico seated at the bar looking like he’d just been waiting for Sans to show up and liven up his morning. The strange skeleton had been about as small as a monster could be, looked real fragile too. Not like the usual straggler types Sans came across. The runt had looked so queer in those ugly shorts and slippers that Sans hadn’t known what to make of him. Still, the puns shouldn’t have caught him off guard the way they did. Though, more off putting had been his own reaction to them.

Looking back on it, Sans should have just yanked the little fucker to him and teleported them both back to his place.

“… He did ask for ketchup, if that’s of any interest to you,” Grilby said as he began to shakily put the bottles that had been knocked around back into place.

“Ketchup?” Sans raised an eye-socket, looking down at the half-empty bottle on the counter. It was on its side, having fallen over either when he hit the counter or pulled Grilby over it. He chuckled and reached for it. Such a fruity drink.

“He really is a fruit cake,” Sans said while inspecting the bottle, giving it a little shake.

The bottle should still have some of the runt’s scent on it, meaning he could pass it over to some of Fell’s finest bent cops for inspection. Half of them being dogs, it would be the easiest way of tracking him, not that Sans wouldn’t put some of his own leg work in. Even with Grilby set up to take the fall, if either of his brothers discovered the runt first, there was a chance he'd let something slip. And if his brothers found out Sans had not only been told about a skeleton monster none of them knew, but had also let said skeleton monster _escape_ …

Sans shook his head to lodge the gruesome visualizations from his imagination. Best not to think too deeply about it. He and his brothers had been on… non-too-hostile terms for some time now, and he didn’t want anything to jeopardize that- certainly not some runt of a monster who ought to consider himself _lucky_ should Sans decide not to feed him to the dogs after catching him. Small thing that he was, not like there’d be much to chew on.

Sighing, Sans decided he should finish his business at the bar before his anger could begin fizzling inside him again, a low heat but ready to boil over at any moment, as it was ought to do.

“Ey, gimme a light,” He ordered Grilby with a sadistic smile.

The flame monster’s thin lips tilted down into a hesitant frown, but he knew better than to tell the skeleton no. Without a word, Grilby stepped forward and leaned across the counter, trembling slightly as he blew purple fire onto the tip of Sans’ cigar, lighting it up. Heh, looked like Grilby still remembered the last lesson Sans had taught him.

“Appreciate it,” he said smoothly, bringing the cigar to his mouth and holding it there between his clenched teeth. Sans was a Mafioso, sure, but he still had manners- when they were warranted. It’s what separated he and his brothers from the general criminal population of Fell City. And other, smaller skeletons, apparently.

Though, would the little daisy even be in the city? If he didn’t know who Sans was, there was a good chance he didn’t know Fell was exclusively the Gaster brothers’ territory. Not a crime was committed in that city, not a single weed plucked, without the one doing it stopping to consider if it would land them on the wrong side of a magically sharpened bone.

But if not Fell, where would the stranger go? There was nowhere else _to_ go. The Underground wasn’t the populated place it once was. After the barrier had been lifted, the citizens had rushed to the surface, gasping in the new air like fish that had been held out of water. Sans would have considered it pathetic had he not been right there with them. As it was, there wasn’t anywhere to go in the Underground that a little daisy could be safe. They needed a different kind of light than what the Underground could offer.

No, the runt had to be on the surface, in Fell. Teleportation was limited to the amount of magic Sans could use at any given time, and he’d bet all of his ill-gotten green that it was the same for the smaller skeleton. And there was no way such a tiny thing could carry more magic than him. That meant he had to be up top, probably not far from the mountain. Either already in the city or on his way there.

It was convenient timing, the little daisy’s arrival. What with the elder Gaster brother out of town for the foreseeable future; meant Sans got to deal with the new skeleton his way.

Wing Dings was off in Hotland doing who knew what in the labs, which gave Sans and Papyrus free reign of the city to do as they pleased with it, within reason. Of course, neither of them had any particularly big plans for it. The big plans were always left up to Wing Dings, while Sans enjoyed with the smaller problems in the city. Not because he couldn’t. While their older brother was gone, Sans was perfectly happy to leave the majority of control to the city to Papyrus, who reveled in the chance to make the city more into his image.

Which meant that in the few short months that Wing Dings has been gone, at least three new Italian restaurants had opened up.

The only real instructions Wing Dings had left for them was to continue collecting their protection fees, keep the drug and weapon trade running smoothly, make sure the other mafia families didn’t get too curious about their brother’s vacation, and to report back any suspicious behavior should something out of the ordinary happen. Whatever that had meant.

Now Sans was starting to get an idea. If only he hadn’t been so damn patient with the runt. If only the little daisy hadn’t been so damn funny. Practically a ray of sunshine compared to the kind of folks Sans usually interacted with. Times as they were, every milksop and gadfly was walking around looking like gray was a mood. Who could blame Sans for enjoying a bit of color? Everyone had their vices, and shitty jokes just happened to be one of his.

Sans took a drag of his cigar, lazily blowing the dark red smoke out his nasal concha. It curled in the air and Sans watched it through half-open eyes.

He had wanted to take the little daisy’s hand and teleport them to the top of Mount Ebott, just to see his reaction. It was a rare sight to see a monster without at least one nick in him, even rarer to see him looking all soft and innocent, guarded without really knowing what he was trying to keep out. Made everything he did interesting to look at.

Weird clothes, though. The smaller skeleton had been showing a _lot_ of bone, and while he appreciated the view, Sans had to wonder if it had been intentional. Meant to distract enemies, or maybe the guy was just one of those flamboyant types. Then there were those pink slippers. Pink. On a man! Of all the crazy footwear…

Sans sucked in another drag from the cigar, contemplating his next move.

He needed to find the little runt before people started to take notice of him, and not just because of his brothers’ potential retaliation. Folks were going to assume things, and Sans wouldn’t let the Gaster name be associated with a random skeleton out there looking like some trampy bum.

They had a carefully crafted image to uphold, after all.

With that thought, he turned and walked out of the bar, without so much as a goodbye to its owner. The man wasn’t worth the words, and that Sans turned his back to Grilby was a sign of just how inconsequential a threat he considered the other monster to be.

Sans stepped out of the bar with a yawn and flicked the remnants of his cigar into the snow. He would teach that little daisy to think he could walk out on a conversation with Sans C. Gaster… right after a nap. It was too damn early for this shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a much, much shorter chapter. I'm trying not to have Fell Sans come out and just info dump everything about this world, but rather have it be revealed organically throughout the story. The next chapter will be longer and back to OG Sans' POV and contain more world building. (i know he's technically called classic, but i like calling him the true OG.)
> 
> I do read every comment I get and I'm so glad people are interested and thus far enjoying the story. And as always, continued feedback is appreciated, even (constructive) criticism. 
> 
> 1900s Slang:  
> Sucker – a gullible person  
> Flipmouth – a person as of and pertaining to backtalk; attitude inflection in voice; disrespectful wording   
> Choice piece of calico – a desirable woman (or monster, in this case)  
> Queer – something/someone that is odd, different, strange or non-mainstream  
> Green – money   
> Milksop – a person who is indecisive and lacks courage.  
> Gadfly – an irritating person or thing


	3. Chapter 3

“Turns out the answer has been staring me in the face the whole time, I just missed the _signs_ ,” Sans laughed, looking at the red welcome sign with something akin to awe.

His time travel theory was on thin ice, about to be cracked by the weight of the overwhelming evidence of an alternate reality. One with a purple Grilby who made bad ketchup, one with a more ferocious looking version of himself. It had to be an alternate timeline, because Sans had met no resistance when teleporting from the Underground to the above world. Meaning the barrier wasn’t up, and during anytime past when he and his brother had moved into Snowdin, that wouldn’t have been impossible.

Sans chuckled, still on his knees. The cold of the snow was seeping into his bones and he shivered, grin ever present. So, he was in an alternative timeline, what next? Would the Sans of this timeline have a similar machine to the one he had been working on? What was the state of affairs with the monster world? Was Asgore still king? Had they gone through a similar reset process as his own world had?

If Sans allowed himself, he could sit in the snow and think about all the possibilities of an alternate world for hours. Lot of good it would do him, though. Before he could start thinking too deeply about the possibilities, he needed more information about the reality. 

A shiver wracked his body and Sans zipped up the front of his coat as he finally stood up. He dug his hands into its pockets and looked up at the dark, cloud covered sky.

He needed to get out of the cold. It was uncomfortable and Sans had a hard enough time working in the cozy setting of his own home. If he stayed out much longer, he doubted he’d have the motivation to do much more than curl up by the Fell City sign and nap.

How late was it, anyway? Could it be the same time as when he left his own world? Later, earlier? It was either extremely early in the day or late in the night. The cityscape below didn’t do much to inform him, either.

Just from his position by the sign, by a road some ways outside the city on a small hill, he could tell it was a lot bigger than Delta. It was densely packed and stretched out farther than he could see. Fell looked like an actual city and not just a small town. What with its tall buildings almost akin to skyscrapers, Sans was surprised that even with its size, Delta shined brighter.

Maybe like his own alternate had been, everything in this reality was bigger, darker.

Sans almost frowned at the memory, more out of annoyance than anything. To think there was a reality where he didn’t know how to take a joke…. Well, maybe that meant this world’s Papyrus was the funny one.

Papyrus….

His brother was going to worry if Sans was gone more than a day or two. He might even start to think something was wrong if it was more than a week. Sans hadn’t left a note telling Papyrus where he was going; he hadn’t even taken his phone. Two obvious indicators of a suspicious disappearance that even his delightfully oblivious brother was bound to notice.

He could go back to the bar, but he doubted his alternate would take kindly to being disappeared on. Important people usually don’t, or at least people who think they’re important. Which his alternate clearly had. It was just another one of the noticeable contrasts between the two of them. Because if someone he had been talking to randomly disappeared in the middle of the conversation, he would find it hilarious.

No, the guy was probably fuming at the utter disrespect Sans had shown him. Not that it had been intentional, but just thinking about it had him chuckling. Usually Sans was willing to go along with the self-importance act a lot of monsters put on, so long as they didn’t enact it by talking down to other monsters. Like Mettaton or Papyrus.

Papyrus….

_Pop._

To say Sans was disappointed with what he saw before him would be a vast overstatement of how much Sans actually cared. Having landed in the middle of an unfamiliar street, Sans didn’t see a replica of his own home in front of him. With how different the city had looked, even from a distance, he couldn’t have expected to see his alternate’s dwelling to be exactly where his own was. Still, it had been worth a shot.

If only for a chance to see this world’s Papyrus.

What he saw was an alleyway with nondescript brick buildings on either side of it. There were no monsters or humans bustling about and he didn’t see any cars on the street. Not that it was easy to see—Even the street lamps in this world were dimmer. They looked older and he suspected the bulbs needed to be replaced. The road he stood on was wide and the sidewalk a few feet ahead was cracked. The buildings around him were all dark, not a single light on.

Sans sighed and shrugged. It had been worth a shot. Though, now he didn’t know where to go. If the city was so different, there was a chance the Underground was just as changed. The skeletons’ home in Snowdin had been absent, after all. He couldn’t just go around teleporting without at least some understanding of where he was going. There was too much risk involved. He could splice himself between a building or land in front of oncoming traffic. No, before he started hopping around, Sans would need a map of the city and of the Underground. He was lucky to have landed on an empty street as it was. No need to test that luck any further.

Now, where to go to get the information he needed? His alternate was out of the question, at least for the time being. He had no idea where to find this world’s Papyrus, or if the monster would even help him. Not a clue as to how dangerous the new world was, or even what that curfew Grilby had mentioned meant. Was the city so empty because of it? Possibly, probably, finding out really wasn’t Sans’ goal, though. He didn’t need to know the inner workings of the world worked, just where they worked.

Fortunately, he knew where he could find all the information a monster could want. One of the only places that both the human world and the Underground shared in common.

A library. City this big? It was bound to have one. All Sans had to do was find it. Now, where to start….

A distant red light flickered to life, pulling Sans from his thoughts, and from the way the shadows it cast moved, he could tell it was from a fire. The light was dim and coming from the back of the alley. Definitely not some out of control flame. No, it was man-made, which meant there was a man, or monster, in the back of that alley. Heh, maybe Sans would push his luck just a little further tonight after all.

He walked forward, stepping onto the sidewalk and into the alleyway, and the closer he got to the back of it, the warmer he felt. Good, he was freezing.

Even with Sans’ short legs, it hadn’t taken him long to reach the back of the alley. And when he had, there wasn’t much to see. Just brick walls on both sides and what looked like a loading garage closing it off. The fire was coming from the inside of a short, metal, cylindrical bin. A single, large box with a gray plastic tarp over the top was pressed against the side of one of the brick walls next to the bin. The only other thing of interest was a stack of newspapers right outside the box. They were neat and looked to have been carefully placed. He skimmed over the front of the one on top, the whites of his eyes shrinking as he read.

It wasn’t the headline that had a sudden cold sweat dripping down his spine, but the date printed above it.

_October 23, 1929_

The newspaper looked old, the pages were yellow and wrinkled. Maybe they were antiques. That couldn’t really be the date, could it? Had he not only gone to another world, but nearly a hundred years back in time? Would this time period even have the technology necessary to send him back to his own reality? Did the blueprints to the machine even exist yet? How was he going to—

A fuzzy mop of brown hair poked out of the box and Sans used the arrival of who he assumed to be the newspapers’ owner as a distraction from the onslaught of unproductive questions that had just assaulted his mind.

He was standing at the box’s side, close to the brick wall, and so the human, or monster, couldn’t see him. Just as well, it gave him a moment to look them over without appearing rude. They crawled the rest of the way out of the box and sat by the fire currently burning soft and hot in the short metal bin. It took him a second longer than it should have to determine what they were.

A human, judging by the look of those dirty, bare feet. A woman, one who looked decidedly homeless. She wore nothing but long brown dress that reached her ankles and a tattered scarf that might have been pink once. Though, that could just be the fashion of this reality. Maybe sleeping in boxes was a hobby of hers and she wasn’t actually homeless. Sans didn’t judge and didn’t care either way. He would get nowhere just looking at her. He needed to read those papers and learn exactly what, and when, he had gotten himself in to. Time to introduce himself.

He rapped his bony knuckles onto the red brick wall her cardboard box was resting against.

“Knock, knock,” he said with a casual tone.

The woman snapped her head around to see where the voice had come from so fast Sans swore he heard her neck snap. “Monster!” she shrieked.

To which Sans only shook his head as if in disappointment.

“You’re supposed to say who’s there,” Sans corrected her with no real annoyance.

The woman didn’t respond right away, too busy looking Sans up and down, once, twice, four times before her hands clenched into fists at her side. The relaxed posture completely replaced by one of abject terror. She shook as Sans did nothing but watch, which only seemed to make her shake harder.

“What do you want?” she finally mustered the courage to ask, her voice rough from what he assumed was disuse.

Sans’ half-lidded smile was the only response she got as he thought about his answer.

Peering behind her, he could see that the woman’s box had a thin, holey blanket inside. Something Sans wouldn’t ask for, even if he was cold enough to reconsider his loose shorts-always policy. He only wanted a place by the fire and to read her newspapers. And with the human being homeless as the theory he was currently working with; he could understand the stress she must be under.

He knew what it was like to sleep in an alleyway, clinging to any warmth one could find. Though any he found had always gone to his younger brother. The memories distant, like most of his were, but they were there. He knew what it was like to have nothing but the clothes on his back, struggling to make sure he and his brother stayed fed. To be afraid that the next monster who found them would also be the last.

Not that he was about to tell a random human that he could empathize with her situation. Rather, he smiled brighter and maxed his output of funny-chill guy vibes.

“Mind if I take a seat?” he asked as non-threateningly as he could.

“It’s past curfew for you monsters,” was her enlightening response. She sounded like she was asking him a question, like him being here was some kind of test.

But just monsters, huh? No curfew for humans? Or was theirs later, ended earlier?

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said with a nod in her direction. “Looks like I’m not the only one, either.”

She didn’t respond

“Think I could take a seat and read a few of your papers? It’s been a long day and I’m dead on my feet.” He kept his tone lazy, thankful that his smile was nothing like his alternates’, that he was so much smaller. Really helped his nonthreatening disposition.

“No.” She flinched as she said the word, like she was scared of what he might do.

Now why would she do that?

“C’mon, throw me a bone,” he said, thinking about how easy it would be to just take her papers, while simultaneously dismissing the idea as anywhere within the realm of possibility. He wouldn’t give the woman any more reasons to flinch around monsters.

“Wha- throw you a bone?” She scowled at him and Sans raised a brow ridge in response. “You know what? You skeletons are the worst,” she said, anger momentarily making her forget she was afraid of him.

What, was the expression offensive in this universe? Either way Sans didn’t mind the change of tone, he preferred it actually. If given a choice between being met with fear or anger, he would always choose the latter. Someone being afraid of him wasn’t funny, it was sad. But someone fuming mad at him? Now that was prime comedy material.

“You’re telling me,” he laughed. “No, really, tell me. What’s so bad about skeleton monsters?”

He wanted to sit, but wouldn’t until she gave him express permission to share her space. He didn’t need the human shouting up a storm and alerting some terrible skeleton monster to his location. Because Sans was sure he was about to have his worst assumptions about his alternate confirmed.

“Like you don’t know,” she said with narrowed eyes. Like she was sussing him out for lying. Which, hurt his blue, sensitive soul, because Sans hadn’t even lied to her, yet.

Sans chuckled at himself, which had the human looking at him with both suspicion and confusion. He shrugged it off and continued on with their very casual and not at all unusual conversation.

“Don’t know what you mean. I’m new in town and haven’t heard a thing about any skeleton monsters.” Maybe if he kept up the casual vibe, she’d catch on and lose that sharp edge. “Or any monsters. I’m… out of the loop.” In more ways than one.

“If… if you really don’t know…,” She trailed off. Then her expression hardened and Sans’ smile hid how impressed he was. She was a determined human, not always a good quality for them to have, but Sans found he could appreciate it in this one. Made talking to her more entertaining.

“There’s two of them. The long-legged one usually keeps to himself, I haven’t heard much about him ‘sept that he can have a temper, but what monster doesn’t?” she responded, and the matter of fact way she said monsters had tempers didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he knew monsters with tempers, but they were few and far between.

“The wide one is the worst—Sans,” She spat the name out like it was poison.

“He kills anyone who so much as looks at him funny, least so I hear.” The woman shuddered and hugged her knees closer to her chest and looked straight ahead, eyes distant. “Saw him kill one of those patrol mutts once, one of his own, not too far from here. It was brutal. He’d half way skinned the dog when it broke down begging for mercy. Sans said he’d _throw him a bone_ right before splitting his skull in half with one. There was a bloody stain on the sidewalk for days. Folks were too scared to clean it. Worried he’d think they were trying to forget his warning.”

Ah, so that’s why she took issue with the phrase.

“His warning?” Sans intoned.

She nodded. “Yeah, see, that mutt had been palling around with kids in the area, he was supposed to be patrolling or something, keep us normies in line. But instead he was playing fetch and letting them get close enough to pet, like he was a real dog.” She sneered, but Sans didn’t see anything wrong with what she described. It was that exact, friendly behavior that had the humans back in his own world welcoming the monsters with at least partially open arms. Dogs just seemed to be a species nearly the entire human race was weak against.

“Weren’t a problem till that big skeleton came around for some kind of business. Drove his fancy car into this dead area, flaunting his wealth like he was begging to be robbed. S’what happened, too. Them kids distracted the patrol dog while their parents broke into the skeleton’s car. Stole everything inside, even tore the leather from the seats.” She smiled as she said it, and Sans got the idea that maybe self-depreciating humor would go over well with her. He could probably turn her hatred of monsters into laughter, if not with him then at him.

“Ain’t no monster been kind since,” she finished with an accusatory glance his way. It had him raising his hands up defensively.

“I’d never hurt a human.” The lie felt heavy in his mouth and Sans almost choked on the words. But he’d heard his own voice enough to know he’d given nothing away in his tone.

“You don’t say?” was her sardonic reply.

“But I do,” was his equally dry response.

“Be nice to believe that, but if you really ain’t got nothing to do with the Gaster Brothers then I can’t.…” She continued talking, but Sans was no longer listening. Gaster? He knew that name. It was the monster who had created the blueprints to the machine that had sent him to this alternate world. That meant there was a possibility, if ever so slight, that he could get a copy of the machine’s blueprints. That he could build his way out of this mess sooner than later.

First he needed to know more about the world. About the monsters inhabiting it, but prodding the human wouldn’t get him anywhere. She was already so closed of and defensive, like she was ready to bolt at any sign of aggression. It was strange to see a human so scared of a monster, usually it was the other way around. But from what she had told him, fear of monsters was this world’s normal. Sans would have to adjust if he were going to get out of this reality without too much of a hassle.

“C’mon, I’m chilled down to the bone here,” Sans tried again.

With some satisfaction he saw the woman bite her bottom lip, as if to stop a smile. So she liked puns? Good. Progress.

“Hey, mind if I ask you a question?” He placed his hands in his coat pockets. His knock knock joke having failed in the execution stage, it was time to try another, similar kind.

She frowned at him, confusion in her expression so easy to read it might as well have been written in comic sans

“… I can’t stop you,” was her eventual answer. Not a no, and not stuttering, fearful yes. Which Sans would take as progress and permission to continue.

“Do you know?” he asked.

She waited for him to continue, but Sans only lifted a brow ridge. Do you know jokes were older than knock knock jokes, so maybe she’d know how it worked. If not, it was an easy one to accidentally go along with. At this stage, Sans would take either so long as it got him the desired outcome.

“…Do I know who?” she responded, frown lessening, but still present. It didn’t sound like she’d caught on to the oncoming joke.

“Annie,” Sans said.

“Annie who?” she asked, unknowingly continuing the bit.

“Annie way you can change your mind?” 

The woman stayed silent for a moment, clearly fighting back a smile. Her thin frame shook from what he guessed to be restrained laughter. A shame, really. They were a person’s most distinct feature. Faces were easy to forget, but Sans never forgot a laugh.

“I… I’m not sure I should,” she finally answered, sounding almost apologetic.

There was something holding her back from just saying yes, more than just the fear of a monster. Or, at least of the monster currently cracking jokes with her. And if Sans were the type, he’d pry, but as he’s not….

“Maybe if you pass over a sawbuck, I could reconsider,” she said, and Sans blinked. Sawbuck? He had no clue what she was referring to, but he rolled with the inscience, not giving anything as he thought of another way to get what he wanted.

“No sawbuck, but how about this,” Sans said as he slipped off his slippers, picked them up, and held them out in front of him in one hand. “I’ll trade you my slippers if you let have a seat by the fire and read your newspapers.” Sans made the offer with some small measure of guilt niggling the back of his mind. He was pushing the woman into an uncomfortable place while also exploiting her hardship.

But he needed information and this woman needed shoes. It was a cold night, and while Sans found it uncomfortable, for humans, it could be deadly without proper coverage. If the human cared about her survival as much as Sans thought she did, then she wouldn’t have any other choice but to accept his offer. It would be real hard to run away from evil monsters with frostbitten feat.

She looked from the slippers to his grinning face, then down to her carefully stacked newspapers. Then she sighed deeply, brows furrowed, and nodded. She held out her hands to take the slippers and Sans tossed them to her with a smile.

“Soon as the sun’s up—I’m gone. No one will ever know I was here. You have my word,” Sans assured her.

Her hesitance probably had something to do with the monster curfew she had mentioned. He didn’t ask about it, because with his abilities it would never apply to him. Instead—

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said conversationally, taking a seat opposite of her by the fire.

“I didn’t throw it,” was her response, and Sans laughed.

“How about now? Wanna play ball?” He questioned while picking up the newspaper on top of the pile, but didn’t start reading right away. He couldn’t very well pass up the chance to bring a smile to someone’s face with a few punny gestures.

The human looked at him, meeting his white eyes for the first time and he watched with satisfaction as the hard set of her shoulders softened.

“I’m game,” she said, finally losing her wariness.

“So, what’s the pitch?” he asked as he began to skim over the front page.

“Shirley,” she said, jabbing a thumb at her chest. “And you?”

Sans knew he took too long to answer when more than a few seconds passed before he slowly respond. “…Daisy.”

And Shirley, a smart woman if her pun game was anything to go by, wasn’t fooled by his obvious use of an alias. She regarded him silently through disbelieving eyes, and Sans had the courtesy to thumb a corner of the newspaper nervously. But what was he to tell her? That his name was Sans, the same as the awful, evil skeleton she seemed to hate so much? Whatever small amount of trust they’d built would dissipate in an instant and she’d think he really had been testing her.

Daisy had just been the first name that came to mind. Something about using a name meant as an insult to identify with just struck him as funny- and took away from the bite the slight was meant to dig in. But thinking of his alternate’s reaction to Sans calling himself Daisy was also an equally hilarious reason.

Shirley twisted her lips, coming to some final decision, and Sans would be a liar, or even more of one, if he said he wasn’t at least a little worried she’d tell him to beat it.

“Really? That’s an odd name,” she said softly, slowly.

Sans smile softened in turn and he shrugged without looking at her. “I’m an odd skeleton.”

To which she nodded. “I’ll say, you’re not like any skeleton I’ve seen before.”

“That a compliment?” Even if it wasn’t, he’d take it as one.

“Oh yes, certainly. You’re so small,” she said with all the fervor of a child given permission to swear.

Sans chuckled. “Shirley, you wound me.”

“Cut you right down to the bone?” she asked with a giggle.

He laughed because it was funny and it was what she needed, maybe just as much as she needed those slippers. Nothing was better than when someone went along with his bits. Fun as it was when his brother got mad at him for slipping a pun into conversation, it was more fun when Papyrus played along.

Papyrus.

Sans almost pulled a frown as he thought of his brother. Much as he wouldn’t mind taking his time and enjoying himself, seeing what odd bits and ends were different in this alternate world—he needed to get home to his brother. It didn’t really matter if Papyrus noticed him gone right away, or wouldn’t actually worry for several more days—Sans missed him and he had no qualms admitting as much. His brother was a cool guy, who wouldn’t miss him?

The human yawned, signaling her exhaustion and giving Sans a convenient excuse to cut their conversation short.

He smiled at her, asking, “Tired?”

An obvious question, but he was looking for an obvious answer.

She nodded. “Yeah, I know the city never sleeps, but this gal does.” Shirley then tilted her head, looking at Sans curiously. “Do skeletons sleep?”

He chuckled because she’s not the first to ask and just how little people seem to know about skeleton monsters has always been amusing to him. But so are most things in life.

“We may not be able to get forty winks,” he brightened his eyes for emphasis. “But we sleep just like any other monster.”

“Oh, ah-ha, I see…,” she trailed off, laughing awkwardly. “…Are you going to?”

Sans shook his head. “Not tonight, but you should- you look bone tired.”

He watched her as she bit her bottom lip and frowned at him. Dang, maybe humans lost their sense of humor when tired. He thought for sure that one would have at least gotten him a smile.

“You’ll make tracks before the sun’s up, right?” she asked, reminding him of their deal.

Oh, right.

“It’ll be like I was never here, just like I promised,” he assured her. Sans didn’t take it personal that she wanted him gone so early. Just the short time he’d been in this world and he had already figured out there was something off here with the monster population, not just the skeletons. Prejudice doesn’t tend to create the kind of fear Shirley had of him when he first approached her. Sure, there’s always fear deep down, but it was usually masked by anger and hatred. Shirley hadn’t looked at him with revulsion, hadn’t curled her lip in disgust and spat in his direction like the worst humans tended to do.

Sans had seen through to Shirley’s true thoughts shining behind her brown eyes as easily as if she’d been pleading them aloud. It was a look he’d seen before more times than he could remember. And the non-memory of determined, crimson eyes losing their resolve as he landed the finishing blow flashed through his mind. It was the most primal fear a human knows. The fear of death.

Shirley had thought he was going to kill her.

“Alright, but if you hear dogs barking, you better skedaddle. If they catch you out before curfew’s ended, they’ll eat you alive,” she pointedly looked at his bony figure and then added. “And I mean that literally in your case.”

Their interaction ended when Shirley then crawled into her box, curled into the fetal position, and covered up with the thin blanket in preparation of sleep. Her back was facing him, and even though he knew it was too much to think the human would rest easy with Sans watching over her—he did it anyway. The thought made his smile feel more genuine, at least.

Sans wiggled his bare, segmented toes and crossed his legs to cover his chilled feet with the fabric of his shorts. He picked up the newspaper on the top of the pile, figuring he would at least try to keep the stack neat. Though, what with its worn edges and yellowed pages, it was a wonder he could even read the headline. But he could, big, black and bold. And reading the headline, he knew he’d be in for a long, early morning.

**WALL ST. IN PANIC AS STOCKS CRASH**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, things have been... hectic, as of late. I also apologize for the lack of Fell Sans in this chapter. I know how it can be to read something for shipping and get multiple chapters where the two being shipped don’t interact. But, I have a plot planned out and it needs proper setup. 
> 
> Also, I LOVED reading everything theories and guesses about what would happen next or how things would go. I had to restrain myself from commenting on everyone and spoiling the next chapter. Cause I mean, they were all wrong, but I loved it nonetheless. It shows engagement and if your work can get people's minds going, you're doing something right (or so I hope).
> 
> As always, continued feedback is appreciated, even (constructive) criticism.
> 
> **1900s Slang**
> 
> Sawbuck - 10 dollar bill


	4. Chapter 4

Somewhere in the city, a rooster crowed. It snapped Sans out of his black and white worded haze, and not wanting to miss the opportunity, he scrambled to think of an egg joke, but he just couldn’t seem to whip one up. Guess his mind was fried from lack of sleep. Ha!

Sans laughed out loud, only to slap a hand over his open mouth a moment later. He cast a worried glance over at the human and upon seeing she was still sleeping, his shoulders sagged in relief. It was rare that Sans ever made a promise, he didn’t like the responsibility they came with or being held accountable for the results. But he had given the human his word that he’d be gone at the sun’s first light and a rooster’s crow signaled just that.

Tempting as it had been, Sans hadn’t fallen asleep like his body had practically begged him to do. He’d stayed awake, reading, wishing he’d taken more of an interest in human history and quietly laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Yawning, Sans stood and stretched, his bones popping as he twisted left and right. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground the entire night, too engrossed in his reading to notice his bones stiffening up. Not like he had a way to tell time and take breaks and even if he did, he didn’t have the time to stop and relax. The more Sans had read, the more he’d learned just how different everything was in this reality compared to his own.

The country was in a period of economic collapse, The Great Depression, though the term hadn’t been coined yet. Everything he knew about the era, before reading the newspapers, had come from the mobster movies he had watched with Frisk. And he had barely given them any attention while they had been on. Drama had never really been his genre, and that’s all they seemed to focus on, that and killing, which was another casual aspect of human culture Sans never cared for.

The newspapers were different than the movies, no less drama filled, what with the humans’ entire economy falling apart due to a single street’s failure in less than a year. But they offered an insight to the madness and didn’t glorify the suffering, which, admittedly, made for a boring read. The only information to have piqued his interest all night was that some publications were seemingly pushing a theory that the monster population was somehow responsible for the sudden hardships. It was the only context in which monsters were even mentioned. There was nothing about them specifically, none that mentioned a name, much less a type of monster. No minor stories in the back pages, no editorials, not even the comic strips portrayed anything that could even be remotely construed as ghoulish.

It was strange, to say the least.

Shirley had said the Gaster Brothers ran Fell City, that the police force was mostly made up of dog monsters; why would there be no mention of them in the newspapers? Even the few that acknowledged monsters’ existence, it had only been through implication about the new additions to human society. Maybe they’d only been in the human world for a year? All of the newspapers had been from the same one: 1929. Could they really have subjugated an entire human city in a single year? The newspapers had been useful, but he needed more information. 

Sans sighed and shook his head. Then he walked out of the alleyway, his bony feet clacking like a pair of heels with every step he took. The image of himself in heels was a ridiculous one and Sans laughed as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Eh, so he didn’t learn anything useful from the newspapers—didn’t change his plan to find a library.

Sans looked around at the street he had teleported onto the night before and saw it no less empty. The buildings didn’t look to be in active use and the only sign of life he could see were piles of trash packed up against various brick buildings. Could be the area was abandoned, could be the curfew hadn’t lifted yet, or could be that the locals were already lining up at those bread lines he had read about.

It meant there was no one around for him to ask directions to the nearest library from, but it also meant no one saw him come from Shirley’s alleyway. Unsure of where to go, Sans wished he had a coin to flip. Left or right, neither direction looked promising, but it was a one-way street and the street name meant nothing to him. Sans listened for any signs of life coming from either direction, only to chuckle. What was he doing? The answer was obvious.

“Paps _does_ always say I can’t do anything right…” Sans turned left and started walking. 

He shivered as the cold, morning wind picked up, causing the lighter trash to pick up and blow across the sidewalk. He steered clear of it and clenched his hands into fists, stuffing them in his shorts’ pockets. Sans was grateful all he had to deal with was wind and while the cloudy sky didn’t look promising, at least there was no snow in the city. All he had to do was find the library before there was. Central heating was a thing back in the twenties, right? If not, Sans could always burn a few books. Something no one would miss, like an autobiography. Afterall, nothing burned hotter than an ego.

Sans walked long enough to think he didn’t choose the right direction. He kept going, though, because he could at least teleport back to the alleyway. The more of the layout he knew the less he would have to traverse it. Then he heard the distinct sound of an old timey horn honking and snapped his head around to see a black, antique car coming up from further down the road. Though, technically the car wasn’t an antique, was it?

Sans waved as it passed and the human inside flinched.

With that promising start to his morning, Sans continued in the direction the car was going. It had to be going somewhere. Humans tended to congregate all around the same areas, so there were bound to be more up ahead. Maybe one would even be able stop clutching their pearls long enough to give him directions to the nearest library.

He continued walking at his usual slow pace and the sun was fully up before he saw up ahead that the road ended in a left turn. And the closer he got to the turn, the wider his grin became.

Sans could hear the buzz of city life before he could see it. He rounded the corner and there it was. Tall skyscrapers, smoke in the air, shops of all varieties, cars filling the street, and people filling the sidewalk— only people. He didn’t see any monsters milling about with the rest of the city’s populace. He only saw humans in stuffy, brown suits or floral print dresses, a few kids too, though they all looked to be busy shouting into the crowd of adults all around them. There was one on every street corner.

Sans stood by the corner and watched, realizing that the kids were holding up newspapers and shouting out headlines. He chuckled as he took in a scene straight out of a movie. Then he strained his eyes to try and read what the papers said, maybe he could get a date. But he was too far and papers were being waved in the air too fast for the words printed on them to be anything other than illegible black blurs.

Sans hadn’t seen what he wanted, but what he did see had his eyes brightening.

A familiar face.

Standing across the street on a sidewalk corner was Monster Kid, taller than he’d ever seen them and dressed like an old newsie, complete with a flat cap hat. Though, he supposed the kid wasn’t just dressed as an old newsie, but actually was one. Right next to the kid was a stack of newspapers and he could see the kid glancing anxiously around, trying to see if anyone would stop to buy one. With no such luck, it appeared. Humans not only walked past the kid without so much as a glance, but also gave the kid a wide berth as they walked around them.

Rude, but the kid wasn’t shouting or trying to call attention to headlines, which was why he hadn’t noticed them at first. They were strangely quiet for the Monster Kid Sans knew. But then, he didn’t know this kid. Just like his alternate was a hulking brute of a monster, it was possible that rather than rambunctious and loud, this version of Monster Kid appeared to be quiet and subdued.

Neither of which were good qualities for a salesman. And as the regular vendor of a hot dog booth, Sans would know.

Shrugging, Sans decided he would head over and see if the kid knew where the local library was, maybe even see if he could swing a free paper. It was worth a shot, at least.

_Pop._

Sans landed behind the kid and glanced down to take a peek at the stack of newspapers the kid was shilling.

**Number of Homeless Disappearances Rising.**

_December 05, 1932_

Huh, so he’d been right. The newspapers Shirley had kept were old, years old. Had she been collecting them? Or had she simply gathered any she could find to use as fire fuel? Eh, didn’t matter the reason. They’d been useful enough that Sans had considered starting a collection of his own once he got back to his reality. They could sit in the living room right next to his pile of carefully curated socks. Papyrus would love it.

Sans snickered, drawing the attention of Monster Kid who looked behind them, who proceeded to jump in the most comical way upon seeing him.

Sans’ snicker turned into a full laugh. “Careful, kid, you almost knocked over your papers.”

It actually would have been convenient if they had. Sans would have helped the kid pick them up and slipped himself one in the process. Oh well, opportunity passed, he moved on to his words. They almost always got him what he wanted.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the closest library is, would you?” he asked, keeping his hands in his pockets just in case the kid was spooked. Apparently, skeletons had a bad habit of skinning monsters alive in this town. He didn’t want Monster Kid to think he was the type, though from the way the kid was gaping at him, eyes wide, it was probably too late for that.

Sans kept his hands in his pockets and his shoulders properly slouched for the ultimate relaxed vibe.

“Ah- I…,” the kid gulped and visibly shook. Not from fear, though the kid was frightened. This time the tremors were caused by the same thing that had Sans’ bones rattling— the cold. Up close Sans could see that the kid’s white shirt was thin and worn, like it was the only thing the kid had worn for years. It even had arm holes, both empty and allowing more of the cold morning air in. Nothing at all like the tightly knitted sweaters most children of the Underground wore. So, not only do monsters kill each other out in the open in this reality, they also don’t take care of their own.

Sans could see the problem even though it wasn’t his problem, and he wasn’t going to make it his problem. He had enough of his own to deal with and as a lazy monster, one was already too many.

“S-sir!” Monster Kid shouted. “I, uh, is there something you need, or gee, I haven’t sold any papers today--but it’s still early!” The kid was talking to Sans like he was some sort of authority figure and if Sans were the type, he would have been offended.

“Woah, now, what’s this ‘sir’ business?” Sans asked with an amused grin. “The name’s Daisy.”

The kid blinked at him and just like he had with Shirley, Sans didn’t rush a response. As it was, he didn’t have to wait long before Monster Kid was rocking back on their heels and leaning forward to give Sans a proper once over.

No shoes, a plain white tee-shirt, and shorts that definitely weren’t in style yet? Yeah, Sans knew he looked out of place.

“Daisy?” they said. “I ain’t never heard of you before, but you’re ah— I mean, you gotta be with the Gaster Brothers, right?”

Sans shook his head, glad to see childish curiosity winning out over fear.

“No relation,” he said. “I’m new in town.”

“That so?” The kid responded, and Sans could see a crafty glint in their eyes. “Then this conversation’s over. I can’t be seen talking to some nobody when I’m supposed to be chuckin’ papers.”

“C’mon, kid, can’t you just nod me in the right direction?” Sans tried.

“Maybe I can,” Monster Kid said. “An’ maybe you can buy one of these here papers so it ain’t a waste of my time.”

Sans blinked at that. “That doesn’t make any cents.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in life free,” was the kid’s quick explanation.

“Oh, I don’t know about that--air is free, a good joke, this conversation,” was Sans’ cheeky response.

“Well, it ain’t no more.” Monster Kid puffed their cheeks up and pressed their lips together in a harsh, thin line. It gave them a real pufferfish face and Sans laughed.

“How about this…” Sans eyed the humans around them, the ones who were stepping out onto the street in order to avoid coming too close to the monsters. “… I help you sell some of these papers and you give me directions.”

Sans had the confidence he could sell anyone anything, if he were to put his mind to it.

Monster Kid looked down to their full stack of papers, to the other not far-off street corners where human children were selling those same papers, holding them up high and waving them, and Sans didn’t miss the subtle glance Monster Kid gave the empty arm holes of their shirt.

“You think you can get these humans to buy from a monster?” the kid asked, making it sound like some impossible task. Which had Sans wondering, if Monster Kid thought it was so unfeasible, then why were they out on here in the first place?

“I’m sure I can press them into it,” Sans confidently told the kid. “Just need a little advertising magic.”

“Some wha—” Monster Kid started, only to step back as Sans finally took his hands out of his pockets, both of them glowing blue.

Now the type of magic Sans was about to pull off wasn’t really his forte, it was more Papyrus’ thing. But it wasn’t hard to do and he didn’t think shouting at the humans would do much to draw them in. So instead he summoned bones into the air and began shifting them around.

**NEWSPAPER**

The word was spelled out high above them, the faint blue glow of his magic giving off a sort of neon sign effect. Not bad considering his magic was the type to flash by fast, rarely ever hanging around longer than it took to set off an attack.

“Murder!” Monster Kid shouted and Sans almost dropped his bones.

“What?” he said with an unsure laugh.

“That’s some keen advertising! Humans are sure to buy a paper now!” the kid said excitedly, and Sans chuckled. Murder must be some old slang, because he couldn’t think of any other reason the kid would have shouted it.

But in spite of the kid’s enthusiasm, none of the humans came to buy a newspaper. The humans looked their way, a few even walked by close enough to talk to, but none of them stopped to buy a paper. They were too wary of the monsters for Sans to chance shouting out a headline like the other newsboys were out on their respective corners. He was sure if he could just talk to a human, he could convince them to buy, but how could he do it without spooking them….

The answer to his problem came rushing at him in the form of a small child. The little girl ran to him from across the street. Sans sweated, looked both ways, and breathed easier after seeing no cars coming. The little girl was in a blue dress, her brown hair was curly and she looked to be no older than five.

“I love blue!” she shouted after coming right up to him. “Spell my name?” she asked, or rather demanded with the same loud voice only a small child could pull off. She showed none of the fear her adult counterparts had toward him, and for an instant Sans was reminded of another little girl who had been unafraid of monsters.

“Sure thing,” Sans smiled at her, ignoring his previous line of thought. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Alex,” she told him while gripping the bottom of her dress and twisting side to side.

“Alex, huh?” Sans hands glowed a brighter blue as he began to change the bones around. “That’s an ice name.”

**ALEX**

The girl clapped her hands in excitement at seeing her name spelled out high in the air. Her joy was cut short, however, when a woman who appeared to be the child’s mother came up from behind and grabbed the girl close. She snapped at the child for wandering off then looked at Sans fearfully. He smiled.

“Breezy day, huh?” he said it so casually, it caught the human off guard.

“I’ll say…,” she started then shook her head, clutching the squirming little girl tighter to her. “Sorry for any trouble my girl’s caused, mister. She’s got a free spirit ya see—”

Again with the ‘mister’. Sans held up a glowing blue hand to cut her off.

“No trouble,” he said while looking around them. A small crowd had gathered. All human, mostly parents with their children. He looked to Monster Kid who was trying to convince one of them, unsuccessfully, to buy a newspaper.

“Actually,” Sans said as an idea came to him in a flash. “She’s helped us out.”

“Has she?” the confused woman asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer as he started to walk away, tugging the girl by the hand behind her. “We’ll be on our way then.”

Sans waved to the little girl as the mother pulled her away. She waved back and Sans turned his attention back to the remaining crowd. He cupped his hands around his mouth to shout.

“Anyone who buys a paper will have their name spelled out!” Sans said loud enough for the entire crowd of curious, murmuring humans to hear.

That’s when the pennies started rolling in.

It was such a classic sales tactic. Get to the parents’ money through the youth. Sans spelled more children's names than he could remember ever meeting. There were lots of Johns, more than one Sally, and the odd Beatrice here and there. As he spelled the names, Monster Kid collected the money and pointed the humans to the stack of newspapers to grab one. They continued like that until the crowd was fully dispersed, leaving only one newspaper left. Not bad, and in Sans’ opinion the results were definitely worth directions to the library.

With the last of the crowd gone, Monster Kid turned to Sans with a wide, satisfied smile.

“We sold more papers today than I ever sold in a week!” the kid exclaimed.

“Paper and a show- you could say was a real _undersell_ ,” Sans joked with a playful nudge against Monster Kid’s side.

“… Why would I say that?” Monster Kid asked and Sans huffed air through his nose. So many jokes were going to waste in this reality. “Oh, it don’t matter. A deals a deal. Listen up good cause I’m only gonna tell it to ya once.”

Monster Kid then told Sans the directions to the nearest library. The directions were none too detailed, but Sans didn’t need them to be. Straight, left, right, a big white building with ‘library’ on top. It was all simple. When the kid was done reciting the directions, they scuffed a foot against the sidewalk. Like they knew it was time to say goodbye but either didn’t know how or didn’t want to. Sans could understand the feeling. Goodbyes were always so awkward; it was why he usually forgoed them in lieu of teleporting to end a conversation.

“Thanks for your help with the papers. I wasn’t sure I’d ever sell ‘em,” Monster Kid admitted.

Sans raised a brow. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“No human wants to buy from a monster, an’ the ones that will don’t come near,” Monster Kid said with a frown. “I can’t never sell ‘em like the other newsies do.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly drawing attention to yourself. Why weren’t you shouting headlines like the other kids out?” he asked. If the kid didn’t shout or draw attention to themselves, how would they sell papers without Sans around? There was only one left, but still. The longer the kid was out selling, the longer they were out in the cold.

“Oh, I-uh, can’t read ‘em. Don’t know what it says…,” was Monster Kid’s sheepish reply.

“You can’t….” Sans shook his head, almost not believing what he just heard. Was illiteracy normal for kids in this time period? Was it just a monster thing? An alternate reality thing?

Monster Kid shivered harshly as a particularly strong wind blew by and Sans had to consider what he had read in the newspapers the night before. Hard economic times. It wasn’t an excuse to keep the kid out of school and away from learning, but maybe there was no other choice.

He sighed. He had done that a lot since coming to this new world. While Sans didn’t have any particular weakness for kids, they were just easy to entertain and were often unintentional forms of entertainment for himself. But a poor kid struggling on the street to make a living when they shouldn’t even know what the phrase means? That hit too close to Sans’ alternate dimensional home.

“Hey, kid, what do you say to one more trade?” Sans asked, already thinking of all the ways he was going to regret his next words.

“Another trade?” Monster Kid questioned.

He nodded, “Yeah, my coat for your last paper.” With directions to the library, Sans didn’t need the newspaper. He also didn’t need the contrition that would come with leaving Monster Kid alone to freeze on the street. 

“Wowzers! Really?” Monster Kid jumped with all the excitement of someone being offered a free new car. Then, they looked at Sans through the eyes of a kid used to being tricked. “Wait a minute. That coat there’s worth way more than one lousy paper.”

Sans knew more than most what admitting it was basically an offer of charity would do to a street weary kid’s pride, so he didn’t. Instead he shrugged and said, “Worth is relative. I need a newspaper more than I need a coat.”

The kid tilted their head and asked, “Won’t you be cold? Wind’s awful strong today.”

“Wind’s no problem, goes right through me,” Sans chuckled and slid his jacket off his shoulders. It was a willful struggle not to shiver as the cold air blew against his bare arms and neck.

“Well, if you’re sure….” The kid eyed Sans’ coat with such clear want, he couldn’t help but laugh.

He placed the jacket around the kid and zipped it up and raised a brow when it started to slide down. No shoulders meant he would have to find a more creative way to make it stay on. He grabbed the sleeves and wrapped them twice around Monster Kid’s neck, then tied them around their neck. The simple knot was tight enough not to come apart easily, but loose enough not to choke.

“There you go,” Sans said as he finished. “Just like a scarf.”

Monster Kid rocked side to side with their eyes closed, just taking in the warmth. When the kid opened their eyes though, they looked past Sans and he watched as their eyes widened. The kid’s happy smile was still there, but there was a nervous edge to it.

Sans turned to look at what was behind him, but all he saw were humans going about their business, nothing unlike what he had seen when first arriving. 

“I think… I think you should go now,” the kid said. Their expression was still chipper, but Sans could hear the underlying trepidation. 

Sans narrowed his eyes, trying to see anything at all out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. He turned back around to face Monster Kid, his smile more at ease than he felt. He didn’t want to cause the kid any trouble and he didn’t have the time to wear out his welcome. There was just one more little question niggling at the back of his mind. None of his business, wouldn’t have any effect on his homeward objective. But… It was a weekday. The kid implied they do have some kind of guardian. If Monster Kid can’t read, then—

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you out here instead of in school?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Sans knew he’d said something wrong. The cheery expression slowly fell from Monster Kid’s face and they shifted their gaze from the skeleton to the sidewalk.

“Oh, school’d be wasted on a fink like me,” the kid said, and Sans instantly regretted bringing it up. “I ain’t good fer nothin’ but sellin’ papers, an’ I ain’t even good at that,” Monster kid said with their head hung low, kicking a foot against the sidewalk. “Wouldn’t of sold none if not for you.”

It’s not the kid’s posture that gets to him, but the absolute conviction in their tone.

“… Did someone tell you that, kid?” He asked, smile strained. Sans couldn’t find anything funny about what he was looking at, what he was hearing, and he felt like a jerk for even trying.

Monster Kid just shook their head and looked at him with a forlorn fondness that had Sans feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t like the serious turn their conversation had taken. Didn’t like how the child’s defeatist attitude resonated with him.

So Sans changed the conversation, tried to make it a little more positive.

“You know, I--uh, might still be at the library when you’re done here. If you drop by and we see each other, I’ll teach you a few things,” he said, making his second promise in less than a day. Man, there really was something wrong with this world if it had Sans willingly taking on any kind of personal responsibility that wasn’t related to his younger brother.

The kid brightened up at that, head finally lifting to look at Sans with wide, hopeful eyes. The look made him just as uncomfortable as the one before it and Sans didn’t want to be under it for any longer than he had to.

“Really, you mean it?” Monster Kid asked, sounding like Sans had just promised them a pony and a barn to keep it in.

“‘Course I do,” he assured. Then, despite himself, he placed a hand where the kid’s right shoulder would be if they had arms. There was just too much about this city, this kid, that resonated with him on a deep, uncomfortably personal level. “Just… keep your chin up, kid. No matter how many times you get knocked down, you get right back up. And when people laugh at you for trying, you know what you do?”

Monster Kid shook their head, and Sans' gaze softened along with his tone.

“You laugh right back, because slapstick is funny and the harder you laugh at yourself, the less theirs can hurt you.” It was a wisdom that he had carried with him from his youth. It had kept both his and his brother’s spirits up while they were out on the streets. Sure, for Papyrus that had usually resulted in insults thrown Sans way, maybe a bone or two. But an angry scowl was better than a sullen frown any day of the week.

“… Slapstick is pretty funny,” Monster Kid said with a tentative smile.

His smile widened, “You’re darn right it iiiiiiiis—” Sans yelped as he stepped forward onto his newspaper, the fresh print slippery under his foot. He slipped back with enough momentum and force to flip backwards directly onto his skull, landing with a comedic timing that could only have come from practice. He flopped onto his back with an _oof_ and gave the kid currently looking down at him a pained smile.

The kid lost their depressed little mind. The laughter was loud and infectious and Sans, never needing an excuse, laughed right along with them. The act had been a simple one, too basic and intentional to really tickle Sans’ funny bone, but it hadn’t been for him. Once it had been for his younger brother, back when Papyrus was a baby bones, and now it was for Monster Kid. And the kid’s laughter, the childish delight they displayed while jumping up and down after seeing Sans tumble, was well worth the skull ache he would be carrying with him to the library.

Sans rolled over and pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his skull as he stood. He’d be feeling that the rest of the day, and tomorrow. Eh, oh well. He shrugged off the pain with a literal shrug, and bent over to pick up his slightly torn newspaper.

“With that, I think it’s time I started on my trip to the library. See ya, kid.” Sans waved as he turned to leave, his slip and fall a good enough way to end their conversation as any. Heartfelt goodbyes weren’t really his thing.

“See ya, mister!” Monster Kid shouted after him, and Sans was pleased to note their upbeat tone remained even as he left.

And just as the kid had said, go straight for about two blocks, take a left and then a right, and he couldn’t miss it. A large white building, with stairs leading to the entrance and columns along front, the word Library gilded in gold across the top. The library was the most pristine looking building by a long mile. Nothing else in the area came close. The surrounding architecture was all dull, red brick, stained glass, and looked like they had the grime of pollution seeped into the mortar. Clearly all the taxes in the city were going to the library’s upkeep. Which he would have found to be an admirable use of the money, had he not spotted more than several homeless camps tucked away in alleyways, if he hadn’t seen children on every street corner either selling papers or begging for food.

It had been a dismal walk, but it had made the words he’d read in the newspapers real. Gave faces to the descriptions of economic suffering, all of which were disproportionately human. He hadn’t seen a single homeless monster and Monster Kid had been the only non-human he’d seen standing on a street corner peddling paper.

But ah well, it wasn’t his problem, and Sans didn’t plan on sticking around long enough for it to become his. Hands in his pockets, Sans started up the steps, shivering as the wind blew cold air past. Of all the months to be stranded in an alternate universe, it just had to be December. It was snow laughing matter how much Sans hated the cold. Especially since he wasn’t a monster to use the word hate easily. The winter season always had Sans feeling a flurry of emotions he wasn’t used to.

Even in an alternate reality, cold was cold.

Sans walked up the white flagstone stairs with more pep in his step than he felt. The thought of a warm space and getting away from the stairs of the city’s locals had the typically slothful skeleton moving faster than usual. At the top he could see it had a single large, intricate brass door. It looked more like he was about to enter a dungeon than a library, and with how things were turning out in this world, maybe they were the same thing. Only one way to find out.

With one hand still in his pocket, Sans pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The ceiling was so high that Sans had to tilt his head back to see it and there were more bookshelves than he could see or count. The floor was marble, the tables spread out along the front looked like they were made of dark brown, expensive wood. But more importantly; it was warm.

Sans shifted his shoulders and flexed his fingers, absorbing it all in. Looked like the memoirs were safe. He wasn’t alone. To the left of the library’s door was a dark, circular librarian’s counter. With yet another more familiar face behind it.

The same lizard who had manned the library back in his world’s Snowdin. He approached the monster, his feet slapping against the marble floor, echoey clack to resound within the library with every step. But before Sans could get so much as a word out, the lizard shushed him. The monster, with his head down and attention on the stack of papers that surrounded him, didn’t even look his way.

So, it was one of those kinds of libraries. Sans lifted his hands as he shrugged his shoulders. He could find the books on his own. The library was spacious enough, and he could see far enough into it that teleporting wouldn’t be too much of a risk to take. He only needed a book on monster history and an atlas of the Underground, anyway. Any other reading material would be incidental.

_Pop._

Nope. The area around him was bright and colorful, a complete opposite from the rest of the library’s classical look. He had landed in the children’s section.

_Pop._

Sans landed between two tall bookshelves and read the titles of a few of the books they held. Wrong again. Romance.

_Pop._

His next teleport landed Sans where he wanted to be. History. He walked along the row of books, eyes skimming over titles as he looked for something that could give him further insight into the state of the monster world. After walking down the entire isle, he only found three. Sans grabbed all of them then continued his search for a map.

_Pop. Pop. Pop._

It takes longer than Sans would have liked before he finds an atlas of the Underground. It’s a thick book with a purple cover, old looking, and doesn’t appear to have been shown the best care over the years. But it’s better than nothing and Sans takes his now four books and begins to search for a place to sit. He followed the library’s warmth to its source, walking all the way to the back of the library, and finding a long table placed right beside a furnace.

Heh, how convenient.

Sans took the seat closest to the furnace and placed his books on the table. He grabbed the first history book and read the title. A Millennia of Monster History. Cracking it open, Sans started to read over the chapters. He didn’t need anything too far back. He just wanted to know how long the monsters had been in the human world. What the current power structure was in the Underground and above world. He flipped the pages until he reached the middle of the book, deciding to start there rather and skim ahead until he found what he was looking for.

But like every time Sans stuck his non-existent nose in a book, it was hard to keep awake the longer he read. The words started to blend together and the information would go in through his eye-sockets and out where his ears would be. His head bobbed up and down, the quiet of the library a seductive lullaby luring him to sleep. Didn’t help that it had officially been over twenty-four hours since he had last slept.

A short nap couldn’t hurt. Just an hour or two. It was still so early in the day; he would still have plenty of time to read after waking up.

He rested his skull against the open book and the whites of his eyes started to dim as his vision faded out. His breathing evened out, and just as the calm of sleep began to take him, something snatched onto his shoulder. He jolted awake and winced in pain as whatever it was dug in deep, squeezing his shoulder hard enough to make his bones creak. He clenched his teeth, wincing through his smile. Completely caught off guard, Sans didn’t have a chance to look at his attacker before a familiar, threatening chuckle had him tensing from something other than pain.

“Hello, Daisy,” a deep voice growled from above. “I got a bone t’pick with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, things are gonna start happening next chapter. This one was a necessary transition and more set up. And I just really like Sans being a soft boi. Hope ya'll like it and that it doesn't come off as too cheesy in some parts. I'm trying to stay true to Sans' nihilistic character. Not the edgy nihilist, but the "nothing matters so let's make memes and wear slippers in public" kind of nihilist. 
> 
> Also, I downloaded an entire BONE font only for it not to work on this sight. Bummer. As always, I read every comment I get and appreciate them all. Even (constructive) criticism is welcome. 
> 
> **1930s Slang**  
>  Murder - wow!   
> Fink - one who is disapproved of or is held in contempt/an informer  
> Chucking - selling


End file.
